


The Erotic Map of Azeroth

by AshadelMG



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Accidental Incest, Carnival, Christ I Can't Keep Up With The Kinks, Darkspear, Draenei, Dwarf, F/F, F/M, Femme Domme, First Time, Fisting, Gen, Genderbending, Genderswap, Gilnean, Human, Kaldorei - Freeform, Knifeplay, Mind the Intro, Multi, Night Elf, Other, POV First Person, POV Third Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Sin'dorei, Succubus, Troll - Freeform, Vaginal Fisting, What Was I Doing Oh Yeah More Kinks, Worgen, blood elf, gnome - Freeform, hard smut, really bad poetry, soft smut, traumatic insemination
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 03:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 56,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16846636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshadelMG/pseuds/AshadelMG
Summary: The book has been sitting here for ages, yet you cannot remember at all when you first saw it. No memory crosses your mind of a time where you opened it as a child, and you cannot recall at all if your parents read it to you as they rocked you to sleep... yet here it sits.





	1. A Mysterious Tome

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I'm working on porting this over from a couple other sites because it's starting to drain on me, having everything spread out over the internet. The intro paragraph is super important, as it hints at the kinks that are shown in the story - this project is on semi-hiatus as of 12/4/2018, I don't know when I'll get back to updating it again as it's a mammoth project that only grows with each new expansion of World of Warcraft. I fell behind real bad many years ago, yikes.
> 
> This project was intended to encompass a challenge for me - to write a story for every zone in World of Warcraft. Each would feature different kinks, different characters, and the majority are stand-alone... though I'm certain people will discover ties to previous chapters in some! 
> 
> I do hope it is enjoyed, unfinished or no!

The book has been sitting here for ages, yet you cannot remember at all when you first saw it. No memory crosses your mind of a time where you opened it as a child, and you cannot recall at all if your parents read it to you as they rocked you to sleep... yet here it sits.  
  
It is thick, a heavy tome that would turn your head from it were your teacher to hand it to you, but now it lures your eyes. The cover is a darkened leather, worn to the color by the oils of hands. Some pages are dislodged and chipped, giving the book an even older appearance. Gold writing curls on the front in runes that you have not learned... except now you’ve blinked, and it is readable.  
  
_“An Erotic Map of Azeroth.”_  
  
What a strange name. Your cheeks flush, so guilty with what you’ve found. You’d remember a book with that title, and still you cannot bring to mind where this tome has come from. Glancing about quickly, you ferret it beneath your cloak and make your way to a darkened corner of your home. No one will disturb you here, in your little sanctuary.  
  
The book creaks lightly as you open it, and words are written on the very first page. _Literally_. You watch in wonder as golden letters form and create words in the fine hand of a cultured person:  
  
“We know our world only as our eyes have seen it, never really seeking beneath the many layers of propriety and false shame that coat our every actions. Damsels in distress and knights who fight dragons are only one such tale, those safely told to children to keep their hopes alight. Ah, but how there are other hopes, other cravings, that come so much later in life... where our dreams are so much darker and delicious. You’ve no idea what I speak of, I think...  
  
"Come, little one. You’ve never seen this book before, have you? No, it has never been there until you were of the right age. Yet you will know the contents as you read them... they are the oldest stories, those that are shared between sheets and late night rendezvous. It’s alright, don’t be ashamed. I am the Lorekeeper, and you are reading me.  
  
"Into my world you now tread, into my stories you now read. I’ve collected them from all over, you see?”  
  
It is at this time that the page turns on it’s own and unfolds itself, the outlines of continents and worlds visible but not nearly filled in. The ghostly action, something you had not foreseen, gives you chills... but not nearly as much as the feeling of someone bending over your shoulder, breathing ethereal words into your ear in a seductive coo as they appear on the page.  
  
“We will begin here, I think.”  
  
A glimmering dot appears on the map, the same shade of gold as the words. Other dots appear, but are a stark black against the creme of the map.  
  
“So many stories to enjoy, but it’s only right that we go in order. Touch the little mark there... this map is your way to the next story, or even back to a previous one if you so choose. See how the black marks do nothing? See how they have no names? This is your chapter list, my little rebel. You are about to enter my own domain, where some nights are darker than those with no moon. Be not afraid... you can always shut me tight, and nothing will harm you.  
  
"I am the Lorekeeper, and you are reading me.”  
  
The golden dot pulses gently, tempting you with it’s name while others remain silent...


	2. Elwynn Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Our journey begins in the woods of Elwynn Forest, a setting not so very long ago. Sarai is a young woman making the best life she can for herself, on her own. She’s a good girl, never been with a man, and yet her body hungers for one. A mysterious rider visits often, tempting her away from a path of purity without ever laying a single hand on her. After all, the sweetest fruit is the one that plucks itself from the vine. Little does she know, her family is not all dead as she believed... something she finds out just a bit too late.”
> 
> The ‘Loremaster’ chuckles. “In shorter words, my dear innocent... female and male, a first time laced with romance and hungering passion, and unknowing incestual relations with the very likely chance of impregnation. What? You thought I’d whip out the nasty stuff on an innocent like you? Just read, silly one. My pages don’t bite.”

“Sing us another, lassie!” The farmer laughed with the others as the dying notes of the jovial tune dimmed in their ears. It was a common call for the red-headed tavern girl, and one she adored to hear. Sarai tilted her head just slightly in thought, her green eyes half-closed as she spoke.   
  
“I suppose I could, Gareth. What would you like to hear, my friends? The night is late, but my joy is full. Name it, and you shall have it.” There was a low murmur through the crowd as they considered their options, leaving the young woman to drop from her seat on one table, an endearing smile given to the nameless boy who offered to hold her harp while she fetched water for her parched throat.  
  
Her eyes danced with merriment as she watched the deliberations. Months ago, such a thing seemed impossible. The men and even women who came to her self-made tavern were unruly and disrespectful. Battle had made them callous to the joys of life in times of peace, too used to jumping awake at the slightest snap of a dry twig to endure the many sounds that could come from an old building. It had taken tears to break their shells, and then music to tame their savage hearts.  
  
Yet, Sarai hated none of them. She remembered well the day that she had been struck with a piece of wood during a fight. It hadn’t been the blow against her side that had brought her tears, it had been her realization that the wood was but a chair leg, torn from the last piece of furniture her mother had owned. A priceless heirloom, destroyed... just like her family. It had been a moment of quiet when the fighters realized what had happened. Time seemed to freeze, focused completely on the single tear that moved down her freckled cheek to hit the ground.  
  
They had endured her silent sobs. Every shake of slender shoulders while tears hit the floor in increasing amounts until she could stand it no more, and she ran from the room to find solace in her quarters. At that time she didn’t care what they did to the house. Let them steal what she could barely support. The once pleasantly plump girl had lost a dangerous amount of weight, forced to near starve herself to keep up with the charity she expressed to everyone who had asked. They had watched her go from healthy to dangerously underfed and had said nothing. They had destroyed her home. They had broken her heart without ever feeling love for her.  
  
The following morning was one full of surprise and more tears. She had not needed to say a single word in reprimand, and these mighty warriors and spellcasters who had brought deadly enemies to their knees had been cowed. The dining hall that she used to serve people had been cleaned; broken furniture carried away to be forgotten, tables wiped down, pictures put back where they were supposed to rest on wooden walls that had been stripped of food flung in heated ‘battle.’ Hours and hours of work that would have taken her to do had been done while she slept.  
  
Sarai could remember vividly the first visitor to the ‘tavern’, long before she had ever dared think to open the doors for that night. Jenna, a farmer’s daughter who had fled Westfall when the Defias grew in number, stood there waiting with a babe on her hip. “There’s been some rumors you’re in a bit of a rough spot, Sarai. Most of them sprang up last night. I’ve got nothin’ much in money, but I have plenty of furniture from the old farmhouse. Would you like to have it?”  
  
That had started the day, and it continued. Brawlers who had caused her so much grief came laden with food for the stores, mothers who had lost sons and daughters to battle came to keep her company during long days and keep an eye on the girl herself. Blankets, chairs, beds... the funding to expand what was becoming a popular place to eat and drink came and before she knew it, her home had been built upon and became both refuge and entertainment for her and so many others.  
  
What had been little more than a two story farmhouse with a couple of bedrooms and a large dining room became a near mansion. Farmland had been traded away for gardens tended by herbalists, more support coming in from the herbs and food grown. For the first time in months, Sarai had watched all of her charity to others come back in handfuls, leaving her in tears some days in her room, a room that had been sparse then and was now something she could truly retreat to.  
  
Yet there was one thing she loved more than anything, and that was the small lap harp of gilded ivory and silken strings that had been gifted to her by a perfect stranger. Perfectly tuned, suited just for her own voice, a voice that had rarely raised in song since she was orphaned. Now it was heard every night. Now all she knew was joy.  
  
“Sarai, girl! Has your head been addled by all the attention?” Gareth’s teeth were white between the beard that covered the lower half of his face. Oh, he did love teasing her every chance he got. A man who had lost wife and child to the plague, he knew her pain well enough. It had been he who had struck her that night all those months ago, and now he was an informal guard in case the patrons became more rowdy. “Let’s hear somethin’ you’ve made up in that pretty little mind of yours. Something sweet, as the last song for the evening before we cart ourselves back home.”  
  
The woman laughed, placing her skin of water down as she pushed sanguine curls from her face. “It’s been a long time since you’ve requested such a thing. I’ve been singing bawdy sailors songs for too long.” The thicks wool skirts she wore rustled as she made her way back to the central table. An enormous thing for a large room, the round table was carved around the edges in elven runes. A priceless item that had been brought from Kalimdor itself by a patron, there was room for twenty men in armor to sit around and eat and drink comfortably, while she could sit in the middle with her skirts flared around her her as she sang. It was the room’s center, and perfectly lit beneath the candelabra.   
  
Gareth’s hands supported her as she stepped with bare feet up onto the surface of the table and took her place in the middle, the nameless boy offering her harp again as she settled her skirts. A hush fell over the tavern again as she plucked the silken strings as if trying a tune in her mind before her lips parted and words spilled forth. Quiet and haunting, the patrons settled back in their chairs for what they knew would be a good song.  
  
“See the little songbird there,  
roses wrapped in silken hair?  
See the smile that graces lips,  
set in a face too sweet to kiss?  
  
Oh, lady fair of whom I see,  
perched amidst my tangled dreams,  
So long I’ve been without your light,  
lost in a battle I must fight.  
  
If I had my way in this world,  
a thousand blooms would be unfurled,  
To linger there where hands press,  
against the front of your lovely dress.  
  
Oh, lady fair of whom I see,  
perched amidst my tangled dreams,  
So long I’ve been without your light,  
lost in a battle I must fight.  
  
Sing to me of joy and love,  
bring me to your world above,  
Sad I am that I have missed,  
that chance I had of lips to kiss.  
  
Oh, lady fair of whom I see,  
perched amidst my tangled dreams,  
So long I’ve been without your light,  
lost in a battle I must fight.  
  
Please sing sweet my lady fair,  
before the dark that comes ensnares,  
No more shall I hear your voice,  
this death was not my goodbye of choice.  
  
Oh, lady fair of whom I see,  
perched amidst my gentlest dreams,  
So long I’ve been without your light,  
one more lost in a bloody fight.  
  
Oh, gentle soul for who I sing,  
fly high and far on feathered wing,  
Torn from me the man I love,  
turning nightingale into mourning dove.”  
  
It was never just the words in her songs. Her voice carried all the sorrow and joy those words could hold, bringing tears to even the most hardened heart who heard her sing. This trembling tale of a love lost to war was just one of many that struck the chord within those who listened, many victim to the very same. It was a bittersweet love song, something strange for many to hear from her.  
  
Still they whispered words of thanks, lifting final drinks to her as one by one they left. Sarai watched each of them go with that gentle smile she held so much easier these days. Good days, full of profit and laughter. At least in her home and on her land, people could know peace. A different song was hummed as she went about her cleaning. The night was late, but she was used to it. Besides... she was waiting.  
  
Pure in body, Sarai was the object of many affections. Young boys who saw her kindness as confused it for love, older men who missed the touch and gentle company of lovers gone with no intent to return. One by one they were denied without reason, until five months past.  
  
Even the thought of him made her heart beat harder. The strange man who had collapsed against her door that one rainy night, a dagger sunk into his side and two arrows in his back. He had been lucky that Jenna had stayed that night, worried that the storm would keep Sarai from the rest she needed. The priestess had kept him from death, and he had recovered in the room next to her own.  
  
Silence was all he had to him, an air of privacy that she could not penetrate no matter how she had tried. Questions about how he had ended up where he was, how he had been hurt, where he planned to go? They were all answered with only a quiet gaze of eyes as blue as the sea before he left her hanging. He had helped her around the tavern as he recovered, gaining strength again by bringing in wood for the fireplace, or cleaning the stables where the guests could board their steeds.  
  
Then he had gone, and for weeks she found that she missed the quiet company. Missed the way he watched her from the corner of his eyes, to look away when she looked at him fully. It was he who had coaxed her into singing, it was he who had gifted her the harp she adored so much. Here and gone again, and while he may have felt nothing at all for her, she was in love without realizing it.  
  
A mother and father who had died fighting in Hyjal, and a brother who disappeared not long after. Sarai had been passed around until she had come of age and inherited the wealth of her family. All that remained of it was her home, that beautiful home that had become more than she had ever had. Her mind wandered as she cleaned, singing softly as floors were scrubbed on hands and knees, carpets dragged out to be cleaned in the morning, crockery and kitchen swept and sorted.  
  
It was the neigh of horses that attracted her attention as she climbed the steps to go to her room. One of them she recognized clearly, her own Dawnbreaker. The others she did not. Fearing a theft, she all but ran to the door, forgetting her cloak as she left the door open and ran across the grass -  
  
\- and stopped short. Why the moon chose to break out from behind clouds at that moment she did not know, but it was perfect. How could she have not realized the warning was not what it seemed, that her beloved horse was only welcoming friends? Astride a great black stallion sat the silent companion she had come to treasure. The moon cast his features into darkness, glistening off the raven hair that he pulled into a low tail, though she knew he still had the messy bangs that would cover his eyes. Eyes like the sea at night, dark and forbidding.  
  
“You!”  
  
He turned to her at her cry, and she saw that for once, he had not covered his face. The black cloak he normally wore was there, but not the thick scarf that normally hid his face, shielding darkly tanned skin. His lips were pulled in a smile, and he seemed happy to see her, weariness flying from his features as he dismounted.  
  
She found herself in his arms. It seemed so natural, to welcome him back in that way. There was no feeling of embarrassment there in her for many long moments, and then it came all at once. “Oh... I-I’m so s-sorry!” She moved to pull away, to regain some semblance of decency. Surprise flooded her as she discovered she could not. His arms had wrapped about her waist in what she was sure was innocent and instinctual response.  
  
“Y-you can let go if you’d like. I’m sorry...”  
  
“What if I don’t want to?” They were the first words she had ever heard from him, and the cool night seemed to become warm. She could feel her blush on her cheeks, knowing she was likely a more vivid shade of red than even her hair. There was a pause, and she realized that his face was close, the scent of woods laced with sweat reaching her senses just before his lips brushed against her own.  
  
What was going on? His grip was not tight, his lips timid against her own. He was not forcing himself on her, not trying to cling to her as she had just done to him without thinking. Following the trail of unthinking behavior, she tilted her head and returned that brush, a soft sound coming from her as his grip became firm around her and nearly crushed her against his chest. Their lips parted, her actions following his own as he gently coaxed her through her first kiss.  
  
She barely noticed as she was moved, his arms sweeping her up as he carried her into the stables and to the hay that was nicely piled. So many children played in that stable, jumping from the rafters into that same pile, and now she too landed in it, feeling the rough feed poke at her back as he dropped gently atop her. His eyes scoured her own, and she found herself trailing his lips with her fingers in an almost wondering fashion.  
  
“What if I don’t want to let you go, little mourning dove?” Her words were lost in a coo as he kissed her neck, his smile still plain against her skin as she squirmed in confusion. “What if I want to stay here, with you? With the woman who saved my life and who embraces me so lovingly?” His lips parted to nip at her skin, tearing whimpered moans from her.  
  
Sarai was lost in a field of pleasant feelings. His words only barely registered, enough to feed the heat that was flaring along her cheeks and between her legs. Did he truly want to stay with her, here? Words just wouldn’t come, and she barely took notice as his hands untied her corset and slipped it away from her, but he did nothing more than that. Not that she really minded it. Corsets were supportive, but incredibly restrictive, and she welcomed the freedom with a deep breath that left her in a heated gasp.  
  
“The way you blush makes me think you’ve never been touched,” he smirked as her body shuddered beneath his touch, teasing her skin through the linen chemise she wore. He could see her breasts plain in the lantern that was never doused within the stables, keeping it a low light that gave the girl a heavenly glow to her skin and hair. “The way you respond seems to confirm that. I can stop if you wish, Sarai.”  
  
“No... please no.” She didn’t know what he was doing, only that his fingers through the linen set her more aflame. The rough fabric scratched at her soft skin, varying degrees beneath the pads of his fingers. Yet he did more, kissing lightly from her ear to her collar, and then further, his lips wrapping around one hardened nipple and suckling a few brief moments to release and give attention to the other, leaving wet warmth surrounding each as his tongue soaked the cloth.  
  
Sarai was not a small girl anymore. The weight she had lost had nearly all come back, but it graced her with an ample chest and good hips. Hips her father had teased would help bear many children, when she was only a leggy young girl. She had never imagined her breasts would be so tender under his touch, her moans increasing as he kneaded the flesh, teeth nipping at pert nipples. The pain was dulled as his teeth gripped more cloth than skin, but it still made her back arch, her legs shift and slide against his thighs as he nestled himself between her legs.  
  
“My little songbird... you sound beautiful no matter what leaves your lips.” His hands drifted lower, beneath her skirts to skate along her soft inner thighs, teasing along the linen panties she wore before pressing more firmly. Oh, Light... she was soaked and he had done so little. Her whimpers became more heated, hips bucking as he teased and stroked lips through cloth before wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her up against him as he jerked her corset from beneath her, moving his cloak into place and laying her down again.  
  
The break was welcome, his actions pausing while he made her more comfortable. She wanted to ask why he was doing this, why he was treating her like something delicate while she was slowly starting to feel dirty. The purr that left her as cool air licked against bare legs when he untied her skirts and all but tore them off brought one from him as well, and then she was lifted once more. On his knees, her legs wrapped around her waist as he levered her upwards so that she was sitting in his lap.  
  
Dressed only in her chemise, the rough leather that scratched at her inner thighs as she squirmed made her gasp and burn, head falling back while his lips pressed to her neck. Her own hands started to pull at laces, stripping his leather chest from him until she could feel skin, and his teasing laughter became soft grunts against her neck as she dragged nails along his abdomen. “You don’t play fair, pretty kitten.” Her eyes shot wide as his fingers slipped beneath her panties, pressing lightly against silken-slicked lips before pushing his middle finger into her.  
  
His head pulled away, free arm supporting her. “You’ve never been broken?” His tone made her blush and shake her head shyly. The finger inside of her curled and her hand clapped to her mouth as a shrill cry tried to leave her. “I have every intention of taking you here and now if it is what you wish, Sarai. I didn’t expect to be blessed with such an honor...” His teeth nipped at her hand. “Don’t silence yourself, and relax.”  
  
A second finger joined the first, causing light pain that she squirmed back against in an uneasy manner. She knew this would be uncomfortable, yet she wanted it. Her whimpers died beneath heated moans as his fingers curled and stroked, teeth catching the flesh of her neck to suckle until a mark was left. “Take off your chemise, and lay back.”  
  
She did as was told, a shiver running down her spine as the fabric was tossed aside carelessly and she fell back against the cloak and hay. He watched her with those eyes, drinking in her nearly unmarked body - an arcane mark, her family crest, sat high on her left arm, the only thing that would distinguish her from other faceless children during a war. Used to join families again if separated, it was a painful reminder. Slow moments passed as he stripped himself bare, standing briefly to rid himself of boots and leggings before he settled again between her thighs.  
  
Sarai’s cheeks flushed, her eyes shooting a frightened glance from his seven inches of length to his eyes. He smiled. “You can tell me to stop, Sarai.” He bent over her, letting his length slide along her lips, pressed just firm enough to nudge the bundle of nerves crowning them. “We both know this will hurt, but I will be gentle. I will always be gentle, if you’ll have me.”  
  
She couldn’t think, not with him rocking against her like that. She didn’t even know his name, but he wanted to stay with her. Did he love her? Was that why? “D-do you love me?” She almost melted at his smile, the tender way his lips touched her own before he responded. “I do. I love you with all my heart. Do you love me, Sarai? This stranger who has hidden so much from you?”  
  
“Y-yes!” Their mouths met again in a heated kiss as her legs wound around his hips, and his fingers were replaced with the tip of his length, and with one swift thrust he sunk into her, holding her close as she shrieked with the pain of her hymen splitting beneath his assault. Her face buried in his neck, her sobs quieting as he held still, combing fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry, my love. It will be easier from here, I will be gentle.”  
  
She trusted him, remaining close against him as his hips rocked, drawing him out and then hilting again in slow and controlled strokes. Her sobs soon became moans, the light friction such a beautiful thing as he picked up a pace that was gentle, his mouth taking in her nipple. A wash of heat and pleasure found her, and he grunted as her walls spasmed around him and yet held. His own breathing had become a rough panting, his eyes half-lidded with the effort of restraining himself so that he would not finish and leave her unsatisfied.  
  
Something that was becoming more of a problem as he allowed her moans to guide him. A rough thrust was met with a startled gasp and needy whine, her back arching and pressing full breasts to his face. Breasts he took great care to bathe with his tongue, nipping at stiff nipples and even tugging as her fingers wound in his hair, tearing the binding from it. Raven locks dropped around his shoulders, the wild mane giving him a more feral appearance. They were like night and day, her pale skin stark against his own that had been darkened by the sun. Sanguine against black, he cared little for anything other than her. His little Sarai.  
  
“P-please...” The way he ground his pelvis against her was pushing a tide of warmth into her, and he knew it by the way she was gripping him on every withdrawal. “I don’t... I don’t know what to do!” He laughed, his voice a whisper against her skin.  
  
“Let go, my little songbird. Your body knows what to do.” His pace quickened, and he bit back a grunt and she spasmed a final time, gripping him near painfully as her body seized and she came. The horses shifted uneasily with the screaming moan torn from her throat, overpowering his own as he hilted a final time and released, shooting rope after rope of thick seed deep inside of her. “Light, just like that...”  
  
They trembled together, her fingers clinging to his shoulders as they reveled in the afterglow, the lantern-light gleaming off of sweat glossed skin. “I should have asked before I did that, I am sorry. Know that if anything comes of it, I will aways be here. I will go no where, Sarai. You are my love...” He nuzzled against her neck, letting her drop to the hay fully as he withdrew and moved to rest beside her. His hand wrapped over her, pulling her back to his chest as he kissed her neck softly. Sensitive though he knew she would be, three fingers slipped into her newly stretched slit, his thumb toying with her clit just enough to keep her from dozing just yet.  
  
“Name...” Sarai was lost to her own bliss, her hips shifting to rock against his hand, a hiss of pain leaving her each time he brushed her clit. His seed was warm inside of her, a feeling she enjoyed. The thought of bearing his child, surprisingly, did not bother her. “Corinth.” She smiled, her eyes slipping closed. “I had a brother named that, once...”  
  
He watched her drift into slumber, his smile sweet against her shoulder as he too found his way there. The night ran on, leaving the two lovers as different as night and day locked in their embrace. Only the lantern light guarded them, watching over the two with matching crests on their left arms...


	3. Teldrassil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m still keeping these stories so innocent for your eyes, but now we’ll bring in something else. A young female druid finds acceptance in a male who is just as much man as he is beast, one who has an uncanny way of making the vines of the earth answer his call. In a desperate bid to find time to ease her ache solo she runs from him, and now she is lost, confused, and reluctant prey to the wilds that live within and without...”

< The entry writes itself in a strange hand, kaldorei runes that become readable as if you had known the language all your life, in ink of an emerald green.. >  
  
They tell you, when you take on the burden of nature, that you will hold the power of the bear and the agility of the cat. The skies will greet you as a crow, and the storms will answer you as wildkin. What they forget to tell you, what is equally important to learn...  
  
... I may have been cast out before I could learn it myself. Women were not always accepted as druids, but I showed a high tolerance to the training I would later endure later in life even as a young child. My mother was a priestess of Elune, talented in her own way. My father? Mother would only say that he was a companion to animals, and keen at tracking. I suppose it was only proper that my calling was somewhere between the two.  
  
I didn’t expect it to be anything like this. The world you know becomes something else entirely when you take on the spirits. Invulnerability seems so very possible beneath the tough hide of a bear, and it is easy to become foolishly cocky as shadows cling to your steps as a panther... but I had more than that to worry about.  
  
I was - I am - corrupt. With that corruption came a beautiful gift, but a darker curse came with it. My eyes are tainted, not the pure silver of my kind, but a silver-green. Some would say that Fel energies have made it into my system, but what lives within me is far, far worse. What has trapped so many of the Druids in slumber, what has made the mighty green dragons turn on both their kind and the world... that lives in me.  
  
The story of how that happened is for another time, but you must understand that I am not like the others. In me live the spirits of the wild, but in my mind lives something so much darker. My control over it is limited, and I struggle so hard. I am but a child to this thing that whispers sweet nothings. I am but a babe to this thing that promises me power if I only give in... but I am not like the others.  
  
They sent me away because I did not just force my way into the Emerald Dream, but I came back tainted and corrupt. I am a danger, a thing that threatens the balance we druids strive to maintain. To save myself, and those I love, I have focused all of my training on those spirits that live inside of me. I can call on them for guidance and for strength... but I never thought they could turn on me as well. So much a part of them, they are with me even if I do not share their shape, and it is not only my growing insanity that I must control but the insanity of wild spirits lost to primal needs as well.  
  
\- Ry’lien Darkthorne  
  
<The emerald green ink fades as soon as your eyes read, the Lorekeeper’s golden writing taking over.>  
  
It was colder than normal in the boughs of Teldrassil. Cold enough that breath could be seen before one’s eyes, and most of the woodland animals had found their days better spent amidst dens or the like. Such was far different for one, who knew the paths by heart, knew every tree that grew. This was a wise thing, for the girl was blinded by tears of frustration and the sweat of exertion, her bare feet slapping firmly on stone path before they broke for the forests and all that could be heard was grass bending before her.  
  
The woods knew this girl well, not just the corrupted branches of this tree her people called home, but the woods of every place. The animals spoke of her, one too feral to be person... and yet to human to be animal. Most shied from her, fearing the corruption that they could only smell and not see, but they were used to her presence and tolerated it. No matter how they felt of her, she defended them with the honor and grace of her people. She was lost, sometimes just as much as they.  
  
No matter how they knew her body, and even knew her spirit, they had no clue of her mind. A mind that was screaming at the top of it’s silent lungs with every breath and step she took, a metronome inside of her that was endlessly ticking.   
  
“Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.”  
  
Ry’lien was young. Her people had only recently lost their immortality, but she had been born far before that. Even so, she was young. White hair hung to her back, let free to dance on the wind as she ran and frequently gather leaves and flowers to tuck within the thick mane. As a contrast, her skin was a deep pink. The girl loved to tease that it was simply because of her time spent outdoors, but her near violet skin was hereditary. Both things she hated, marks of a father who had stayed long enough to make a child and then abandon her and her mother.  
  
The wilds had coaxed a body forward that seemed almost strange for one as active as her. She was soft, not enormously fleshy but not quite as lithe as the women who were Sentinels. It was as if the spirits wanted her to remember that even though she was a killer, she was a nurturer as well. Good and strong legs led to a firm rear and hips that held little curve but more than enough sway for the minx she could be at play. Her torso was trim, her breasts high on her chest and no more than a handful if even that. She was young yet, and her body had not quite caught up to her maturity.  
  
Yet it was there and trying, the ache of her chest as the breasts that were once nothing had begun to swell and she knew that odd pain would continue, that unsettling tightness that came and went, but most of all... what she wanted to stop beyond anything else.  
  
The heat.  
  
The incessant, almost rabid heat that turned even the sabers of Winterspring into perfectly logical mates. The painful longing that made a friendly smile to the lonely male priest seem like a promise of forbidden fruit. Ry’lien hated it, and wanted it to stop, and now it had frightened her away from the one person she loved more dearly than any other on this world or the next.  
  
He was as old as her Mother, probably even more so, and yet his heart and mind were as young as her own. It was him, and him alone who had brought her from the Dream, held her as she cried, and shattered her first falling into insanity. His presence had been paramount in keeping her sane, and now she had run from him. Over something as foolish as this...  
  
A sob finally left her, focus failing as she stumbled and hit the ground with enough force to knock the breath from her. Snowy hair spilled around her shoulders, hiding her face from the world as she gripped the ground not in anger but as if trying to coax strength from it. These periods left her feeling naked and vulnerable, she needed him during these times. Needed him when the panther called and the bear searched. Except... she had tried that once, and it was as if every voice in the entire woods was calling to her, screaming into her ear to bend so that they could do only as nature bid them.  
  
Ry’lien didn’t care where she was. She had run more than far enough to get away from him; Terlon likely hated her now for running, and she couldn’t blame him. The moment he stepped close she was gone again, so terrified of turning on him although he was far and beyond what she could ever hope to be. Another angry sob tore from her as she ripped at flimsy leathers, hissing as open breeze tickled hot and sticky skin.  
  
Dark nipples stood erect from her breasts, a soft yelp of pain leaving her as she scooted to try to squirm from her leather pants and caught hair beneath her, yanking and forcing another wave of pleasure to rip through her body until her sobs had become only mewls, and she was on her knees with one hand bracing her body up as the other searched.  
  
“Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.”  
  
Now her heart was speaking the words in time with her body, her head lowered in what could have been shame as slender fingers brushed sensitive folds, a panting mewl released. He hated her. He had to hate her, and he would hate her even more for what she was doing. The mewl became a whimper and then a moan, middle and ring finger sunk clear to the base inside of her. Ry’lien’s palm ground against her clit, her arm dropping to prop herself on her elbow.  
  
Her heartbeat lured her, drowning out the sounds of the woods around her as silver-green eyes squeezed tightly shut, leaving only her ragged breathing to blow away the grass and leaves, chased away on a mewl of pleasure as she continued to plunge her fingers inside of her. So wrapped in herself, so wrapped in the mounting flood, she didn’t notice the area had gone quiet.  
  
The ground split around her, fine cracks nearly invisible beneath the layer of lush grass and clover. Out of her field of vision, the trees themselves reached for her with roots that varied in size from fine like hair to thick vines the size of her wrist. They slipped towards her, as if drawn by her cries. The fine roots spread along her skin, netting along her in a bracing hold that would not finalize until the proper moment, a moment that came as the thicker vines secured over her ankles and her wrists, cruelly tearing her hand out from her dripping nethers and forcing it to the ground.  
  
Ry’lien couldn’t move, the fine net of roots hardening and making her feel as if she had been encased in stone. Her mind screamed, pushing for the bond she had with nature and finding it blocked off, something far more powerful feeding it and coaxing it to her. Something familiar. “N-no!” Her struggles were renewed, the uncomfortable position she had literally become entangled in sending cramps of pain down her side as she wrestled with her nature-born captors.  
  
“Ah, a trapped little kitten...” His tease came into her mind, through the bond he had created to bring her from the Nightmare. A deep purr, one beyond just contentment, rippled beneath his words, and her eyes searched for his form as her mind did the same. They found nothing, making her sob with both fear and frustration again as a breeze danced along her soaked nethers and inner thighs. “Is this why you ran from me, so that you could have private moments?”   
  
“N-no, please... g-go away. Don’t do this to m-me!”  
  
“Don’t do what?” The very shadows rippled, and her eyes fell on the massive paw in front of her face, the claws out and bare centimeters from her nose. Terror ripped through her; he was going to kill her! “Look at me, kitten.” His voice held a low growl, the most commanding tone she had ever heard from him. It was not yet a command, but beyond a simple request. So she looked, meeting his silver-gold eyes with her own, her pleading gaze making his furred maw assume a catlike grin.  
  
The claws retracted, the massive feline standing and slipping around behind the bound druidess. The bonds that held her bottom half in place loosened just slightly, allowing the rise of hips as his cheek brushed along her hips. Instinctual reflex made her hips move, same as a feline priming for mating. The realization brought a moan from the girl the same as the feline druid chuckled. “Ahh... I see. The little kitten is in heat, hmm?”  
  
The vines shifted, squirming along her skin to make way for Terlon’s tongue to drag in a tormenting path along her inner thighs, cleaning the fluids that had been slowly tickling down along her skin. His purr was rich, words teasing as he groomed her. “I had wondered what that scent was. Mmm, you taste as good as you smell. Tell me, kitten... why did you run from me?”  
  
The druidess couldn’t speak, trying her best not to scream. Not from pain, but from the wash of pleasure each rough lap brought her. He was teasing her, never even touching her core but coming so promisingly close that she couldn’t take it. “I c-couldn’t... I didn’t want...”   
  
“Hmm...” His movements stopped, and with a swift move he was above her, his enormous paws on either side of her head, underbelly tickling along her back. “I am your mentor, kitten.” She felt something slick and warm drag between her folds, and a terrified mewl left her. “I train you, I teach you wisdom of the ages... did you think I would not teach you this as well?” His voice was full of mirth, the beast large enough that he was easily able to stand above and over her, his muzzle pressing against her neck, nipping at her ear.   
  
“I don’t want...”  
  
“Kittens? Children? Nor do I... it does not mean you will not learn. I will remain like this, you will remain like that. No children or kittens for either of us.” His words dropped into that dangerous purr, warming and frightening all at once. “... but you will be my mate. I will keep you sane, that precious kitten I snatched from the nightmare those months ago, and you will learn from me. Even in this.”   
  
Ry’lien’s eyes shot wide as she felt his spirit brush against hers, pressing and luring the panther forward as much as he dared. Wickedly, his presence was a powerful attractant, using his own will to dwarf the fledgling druidess and coax the spirit forward. It was almost a betrayal, his use of the bond he had placed, but she found herself uncaring as the whimpers she released were drowned out by the answering purr of a female seeking to mate. Her back arched up against his fur, fingers curling and pressing into soft earth and her own palm.  
  
“That’s better.” He inhaled her scent, casting a quick glance around the glade she had collapsed in. Alone in this state, she’d have been prey to any male beast. With him there, his aura chased away all other contenders and left them alone. Another deep breath left him, and her eyes slipped closed as something else called. In her mind, her sight twisted and bent, and it was Terlon who greeted her there.  
  
Terlon grinned as the woman beneath him calmed; fear was a powerful scent, and it was not one he wanted her to feel. He knew the image he sent would affect her as it was, distracting her from what would be pain. With a little tugging, he had effectively switched who was at the front... a panther greeted him now, arching her elven back against him, prevented from rocking back only due to the vines holding her arms securely down. Terlon waited patiently...  
  
The man grinned, pulling the slender elven woman against him. Questions were unanswered, kisses forsaken as his lips met her neck and parted, clamping the skin there. Ry’lien’s back found surface, pressed firmly against a wall she hadn’t realized was there, but too far gone to care. His fingers were curled, raking nails down her side in a way that made her both moan in pain and sigh in pleasure. Words weren’t needed between them; she had yielded the moment his skin met her own.  
  
His hand gripped at her leg, lifting it until her calf was wrapped around his waist and her inner thigh was at his hip. Her mewls increased, dancing between lusty moans and gasping pleas as each slow rock of his hips slid his length against her slick folds. His white hair tangled in her own, his free hand gripping one of her delicate wrists to pin it above her head as her own free arm slung around his broad shoulders.  
  
The dark pulled away from both of them, revealing them to be laying just beside the massive white feline and his elven partner - an odd experience for anyone who was not used to seperating her spirit from the beast as often as she required. Like ghosts they lay beside themselves. Something Ry’lien didn’t notice until the last moment, when her eyes shot wide and her thoughts shattered, and as one the feline and man both lurch forward, burying themselves to the hilt in her.  
  
The elven woman beneath him shuddered, clamping down near immediately around him and refusing to let up. His tongue dragged along her long ears, reassurance that he was not going to hurt her more than he had to. His spirit laughed, lips trailing along the prone elf beneath him until they found her hardened nipple, suckling firmly and sending the spirit of the woman into a fit of moans. From there they worked in time, the male working in both dream and reality to push himself deep inside her and then retreat, dragging a pained whimper from the elven woman.  
  
Yet both spirit and body were aflame, his private toying of her spirit and body making her feel it firmly in both. The distant pain of the beast was dulled enough to add an edge to the fullness Terlon was giving her in both ‘worlds’ as she knew them, and her previous toying had already pushed her so painfully close that she knew it would be only moments before she was gone.  
  
A fact that he seemed to pick up quite quickly on as his body truly began to rut, making the cries of pained pleasure far more prominent but unavoidable. He’d mend any damage the barbs may have done later, his only focus on rutting and making the woman beneath him his own. This was not a long process by any means of the word. The woman beneath him revered him, and yet that had changed into honest love. But the wilds would never have her as long as he did, and this was his moment to prove it.  
  
So he did. Unable to do so without damaging her horrifically in the real world, Terlon’s spirit instead bit at her neck and collar, drawing more moans from the woman caught beneath him. Like the feline that lived within her, the girl worked on instinct and all she cared for was the bond; the end they both worked for and that she never would have denied. His rough attention did nothing to dull her pleasure, in fact spiking it even more so.  
  
His voice was calling to her, melding between the rich purr and growls of the beast he chose to be most often and the soft words of the man she knew he could be at times. “Cum for me, kitten. I know you are close...” His arm wrapped around her back, arching her up against him and making her mewl as that shifted her hips. There was no excuse for her not to, no words that she could find to explain why she had not already, only that it all washed quickly from her mind as both realities as she knew them heard her cry, that heated moan of pleasure that met the air beneath his own loud growl.  
  
When her eyes opened again, she was beneath the panting beast. His massive paws had claws extended, curled into the ground as if the male had needed to keep himself upright after gifting her with his seed. A warmth she could feel even now, a warmth that was safe and made her moan as she writhed beneath him. Her heat was still pushing, but it had dulled considerably, she could manage it now...  
  
... the rough lap along her ear as he withdrew from her reminded her she didn’t need to manage it. The vines withdrew as Terlon shifted to lay beside her, curling enough that she was cradled in a pile of white fur; a position she loved even when they were simply resting. Her naked form turned so that she was facing the sea of white, a soft giggle leaving her as his fur tickled her nose, but it was not long before she had drifted to rest, taxed immensely by the new activity as much as the effort to have kept all of that pent up inside of herself.  
  
Terlon watched his mate drift to sleep, his spirit extending to watch even her dream-state to keep her safe from harm. She was trouble, so young to him and yet he cared for her, and he knew she loved him. Even as he fell to half-slumber, he could hear her heart-song, and it sang for him and only him. His furred maw pulled in a grin, tail twitching to flick playfully along one of her lengthy ears and make it twitch before he stopped, closing his eyes and chasing her into dreams.


	4. Dun Morogh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You really need a bath after that one? Hmph. You didn’t have to drop me so suddenly like that! I’ve half a mind to torment your pretty little head again. Lucky for you, I’ve found something a bit more pleasant. It even runs along the theme of what you’re doing. Don’t say I don’t spoil you.
> 
> Nelaru is a female draenei who just wants to take a bath after a long day. Winnie is a female dwarf who just simply isn’t ready to lay down for the night, not to mention isn’t pleased at all with the rooming conditions. So what’s a girl to do? Break out the fists, spanking, and hair-pulling of course! Throw some oil in there for fun, and you’ve got a lesbian tryst just waiting to happen! The battle is on... who will win?
> 
> ... drop me in the water, and so help me I’ll give you the worst paper cut you could possibly imagine.”

“I told ye! Two beds!” Winnie’s hand flew to her hips, her other wagging a finger in the face of the flustered innkeeper. “Light damn it all! Ye think a girl coul’ go aboot, sufferin’ an’ such ta save ye hides, and she and her ilk woul’ ha’e a decent room!” Upwards the hands flew, her amethyst eyes lifted as if in praise to an invisible god. Something the innkeeper noticed little of, as the dwarven woman’s ample chest jiggled and bounced before his greedy eyes. It was his last sight, one he would remember despite the horrible lump on his too-big head when he woke the next morning. Winnie growled as the innkeep dropped like a stone, her flame-colored braids whipping around her head as she turned tail and flounced out of the common room and up the stairs, oblivious to the stares of the other patrons as they oogled what lay tantalizingly out of reach beneath the flimsy shirt.  
  
Her angered march stopped as she came to the door of her room, her fists unclenching from her sides while she drew in a deep breath and released it. There was a pause, a brief moment when her hand met the door handle and then she withdrew it, grumbling softly as her knuckles met the wooden door. “‘Ru? Let me in, ye flippant goat.”  
  
Nelaru shot a look that could have made Sargeras’ testicles take up residence in his throat at the door, her calm folding of cloth and organizing of her bags taking up a violent turn as she all but crammed the delicate silks and inks into her satchels. “I am not goat!” The air fairly crackled around the mageling, her full lips pulled in a grimace of hate-bred annoyance. A moment later, her hoof shot out at the discarded pile of holy armor the dwarf had left behind, flinching as the sound ricocheted around the room and sparks flew from the comforting fireplace in response to her temper.  
  
Winnie’s eyes went wide, her voice a roar that near shook the stone around them. “Was tha’ me bleedin’ armor!? Ye demon whore! Open tha’ door, now! Now I say!” Once, twice, three times her foot stomped, her face red from the shouting. When the door did click open, she took the chance and threw it open with such force that the edges splintered as it slammed into the wall, just barely catching the sight of a sleek black tail and white shirt-tail as Nelaru fled into the adjoining bath.  
  
“Not a goat!” The draenei woman huffed as she shut the door gently behind her, her fingers shaking. Nelaru knew that the dwarf loved her armor dearly and treasured it as a family heirloom, but Light forgive her, the short woman angered her so much!  
  
“Nay! Ye ain’t a goat! Ye are a pointy-eared, willow-waisted, lily-livered demon slut!” Each insult was punctuated with the slam of armor as the dwarf cleaned up her armor, growling beneath her breath at the scuffs across the silver metal. “Ye can sleep out in the stables wit’ all the rest o’ ye kin, ye soot-colored rat-humper!” Winnie finished setting her armor on the stand each room contained for such things, her large two-handed mace propped beside it before she stormed to the bathroom door. “Open up, wench! Black sow!”  
  
“Enough!” Nelaru growled, taking the two steps to the door and flinging it open, her hands snapping out to close around the crimson braids and drag the flailing dwarven woman into the room, mustering every bit of effort she had to fling the cussing woman into the deep-set stone bath. Her hands perched themselves on her rounded hips as Winnie sputtered and coughed, her night-shirt soaked completely through. “You want bath? Take bath. Take bath, and maybe drown while you are at it! Nag, nag, nag! That all you do! I cook! I clean! I turn thing into sheep when you can’t find food! Yet all you do is nag!” A hoof clipped against the ground, Nelaru’s fists closing against her thighs. “I be nice! You grouse. I make big bags! You pout! I sit politely in corner while you tell big stories, and forget how I was there! I save you! No, you save whole town!”  
  
“Why you...” Winnie growled, dragging her sodden self up enough to grab the draenei’s own shirt, the flimsy fabric giving way without even a bit of effort and tearing from her opponent. The dwarf was treated to the briefest glimpse of large, slightly less perky breasts with dark nipples before the draenei spun away to allow the cloth to leave her body, and water once more swallowed the dwarf’s vision, silencing any other protests.  
  
“How dare you!”  
  
Winnie gripped the edge of the bath, her eyes narrowed at her shrieking target. “Me? How dare I... what? Follow ye pansy arse? ‘Winnie, we can’t!’ ‘Winnie, you shouldn’t do tha’.’” The sound of wet fabric tearing was heard, punctuating the infuriated dwarven woman’s words. “I wan’ a bloody bed. Me bones are sore, me head is pounding, an’ all ye seem willin’ ta do is flounce aboot! Yes! Flounce!” The woman mimicked a perfect motion, her wrists flapping as she spun a little circle, a ditzy look on her hardened features. “Damn ye to the depths, ye incompetent cry-baby!”  
  
“I do not flounce!” The jet black hair of the horned woman seemed ready to stand on end with the accompanying pulse of arcane that made the very air snap around them. “I walk. I walk normal. So sorry, that I do not look like I have two children battling for sweets beneath my skirt!”  
  
“No! Ye save them for ye chest!” The dwarven woman grabbed her own massive mounds, juggling them in her hands as she sauntered around the buxom mageling. “An’ when ye think none be lookin’, ye just  _happen_  ta drop somethin’, and Light help the man starin’ at yer fat arse when ye bend!” With a hoot, the fire-tressed woman reached out a meaty hand, slapping the dark-skinned draenei’s plush rear.  
  
Nelaru gasped, a dark flush of rose tint coating her cheeks from the painful strike, her leg lifting and swiftly kicking back. Her lips spread in a malicious grin when she heard the sharp cry of pain, her blue eyes glimmering as her sights turned on Winnie, and the blood lightly trickling from a wound on her shoulder. “Never, ever touch me. Or I kick again. Horse may be big. May be fat, but kick can kill.” Slender fingers flipped raven locks over her shoulder, her nose turned up. “Stupid girl.”  
  
Her sight spun for a brief moment, so very brief, the floor torn out from under her as a dense mass crashed into her back, and she tucked almost by habit to be sent into a sprawling roll, a yelp of pain leaving her as her own shoulder met the wall, and then a flurry of blows. Winnie, triumphantly perched on the draenei’s flank, near crowed with each painful contact to the sensitive skin, but her triumph was short-lived, those delicate fingers lifting and curling, forming a fist that sunk none too kindly into one pillowy breast that heaved with each enraged breath.  
  
“Oi! Ye bitch!” A gasp, a pained groan as the dwarf tumbled off of her perch and lay dazed, allowing Nelaru to stand and attempt an escape. Her hooves clicked wildly on the stone floor, hands reaching for the door only to brush the wood and draw splinters from it as, once more, she felt that weight against her back and she dropped, a loud moan of pain leaving her along with her breath.  
  
Triumphant once more, Winnie wrestled herself into a better position, mounting the draenei much like she would a horse, ignoring just how very good it felt as her plump folds spread around the considerable base of the draenei’s tail. “Likenin’ yerself to a horse, eh? Fine, giddy-up, ye fat nag!” Her hands reached, one curling along the swept-back horn nearest to her as the other curled in the black locks, gripping tightly and yanking the woman’s head back with a near maniacal grin on her features. “I said, giddy-up.”   
  
That blush darkened, her blue eyes wide with a mixture of fright and hidden arousal, covered heavily by a sheen of shame. “Off!” The force in the exclamation was not present, not nearly heavy enough to warrant a true command. Another yelp left her full, charcoal-black lips as Winnie’s hand closed tighter on the fine strands of hair. “Light damn you!” With a tremendous amount of effort, the hooved woman pushed herself up to her knees, launching herself at a nearby wooden shelf. Cries of pain left her, surprise echoing from the dwarf as the pots of oil and scents teetered and then dropped atop the both of them. Broken in their fall by soft, plush skin, it was luck alone that left the pottery and glass intact, but the contents spilled around them, and Nelaru seized her chance.  
  
Like a hog let free to roll in the mud, so too did the elegant mageling roll as best she could, coughing as scents invaded her nose and even mouth. What skin she could manage to touch to the slick fluid was coated until keeping a grip on her was more difficult than the dwarven woman could handle. Her breathing hitched as she wormed across the floor, her breasts sliding along the textured stone, the small bumps kneading the tender skin and pulling on the thick, dark nipples. A few feet from where the spill had occurred, she writhed free from Winnie’s grip, the dwarf grunting in annoyance as she was easily dislodged and then pounced herself, Nelaru’s hands pushing her not just down to the floor, but across it as well, as if the woman was nothing more than a cleaning rag.  
  
This did not go down well in Winnie’s eyes, her pride too much to allow such a slight. After a futile moment of squirming, her hands snapped out and curled in the heavy breasts above her head, kneading and tugging them, slapping the flesh until Nelaru cried out again and released her, stumbling back to land hard on her bottom. Once more rang the triumphant holler from the depths of the smaller woman’s barrel-like chest as she leaped upon her prey. “Sensitive sow, are ye? Fine!” Her fingers pinched and prodded the tender flesh, the flat of her hand etching it’s mark into her dark skin as she assaulted the woman’s breasts.  
  
Nelaru was in heaven. A tormented heaven ruled by a short, possibly obese little mortal woman, but she could forgive the lack of knightly behavior for this moment. Every sharp strike brought forth a cry of pain, the dragging of nails down her collar brought tears, and yet she found herself responding in all the right ways. The right ways, to the wrong person. The draenei had never even considered doing these things with another woman, and now Winnie was unknowingly making that proposition a very, very appealing one.  
  
“Yes, cry, ye fat skank.” Winnie’s fingers found those dark nipples, pinching and tugging them, rolling them between her thick digits until something began to nag at the back of her mind. Her tormenting stopped for just a second, her eyes narrowed at the fat nubs until at last a rakish grin split her lips. “Yer a whore! A real sow!”   
  
The draenei whimpered, shaking her head and starting to struggle once more, ceasing as Winnie threw her stout body over one of the woman’s thick thighs, her head jerked down as the dwarf whispered in a near conspiratory tone.  
  
“Oh, ye are. Ye see, the mouth o’ a babe leaves a very, very noticeable mark on a lass. Ye have it. These nipples have been suckled from before, and ye cannae hide it. So the question is... where is the babe? Where is the man?” Her breath was all over the dark skin of the larger woman, her mouth parting to clamp teeth roughly on Nelaru’s ear and tug just slightly. Her tweaking became a palming, then a kneading of the full flesh, determined to pull another sound other than the whimpering noises. When nothing more came, no confession and no erotic cries, her teeth released and trailed lower, clamping on the bruised shoulder while the flat of her hand struck the opposite breast, pulling another cry of pain from the mageling.  
  
“P-please! Stop this. S-stop...” It took everything she had not to collapse back, not to bend completely. Most would say that if she didn’t want it, if this was bordering on force, she should have been fighting... but the shameful thing was that Nelaru was wanting, willing, and all too ready to receive if Winnie would just pu - Her eyes shot wide as warmth surrounded her nipple, and Winnie was at last rewarded with the sound she had craved; a rich, sultry moan that could mean nothing less than extreme pleasure. With that simple sound, Nelaru had lost all will to resist.  
  
There was a long, silence flooded pause as both women were allowed their time to savor the moment, and finally Winnie broke the quiet, pulling from Nelaru’s nipple with a loud smack, her voice low as only the amethyst eyes flicked up to watch the draenei’s face. “No, I don’t think I’ll be doin’ that now, ‘Ru.” Her mouth once more began to suckle greedily, not bothering to be gentle as she was coaxed onward by her companion’s moans. A rough hand swept across the other breast, trailing fingers across the nipple and down, below the swell of flesh to tuck beneath the heavy mound against the draenei’s ribcage.  
  
 _“Where are they, ‘Ru?”_  The words filtered into the horned woman’s ears, wrapped around her mind, and brought tears in a fresh wave to fall down her cheeks, but her mouth would form nothing more than the moans that echoed around the bathing chamber. She wanted to move, a tiny voice in the back of her mind screaming of refusal only to be washed away once more by the delightful bite of pain when Winnie’s teeth scraped her nipple. Her fingers moved, splaying against the slick stone and inching further away from her as if she would fall back, and her moans were clipped short by a soft whimper of uncertainty.  
  
Winnie noticed little of it, her eyes half closed and glossy, so determined to milk the dry woman’s once fruitful breast. Questions faded in her mind, put to rest by the glistening trail of liquid pain that left her companion’s eyes and dropped to her breast, adding to the heavy scents of heartswood and mageroyal the scentless, salty presence of repressed and honest anguish. The dwarf knew that the gentle heavings of the chest beneath her palms was not simply from the moans that left Nelaru. She was not that simple. With a conviction that bordered on zealotry, Winnie knew she wasn’t going to let the draenei from her grasp until her tears had stopped. Or they were those of a more... primal nature.  
  
The loud pop of Winnie’s lips leaving Nelaru’s breast was loud enough to drown out even the heated mewls from ‘Ru’s parted lips, the incessant tweaking of the dwarf ceasing for a moment as she slipped her hand out from beneath the woman’s breast, her head tilted while she simply... watched. Watched the heaving breaths of the draenei beneath her, and how they made her large breasts push further out and then back. Watched the silent tears, crystal clear against the soot-black of her skin. Watched her arms tremble from holding her own weight up, and watched her legs shift uncomfortably.  
  
Her hands, so very rough from time spent hauling a weapon, and working the forge beside her father, reached for the skin covered in a layer of scented oil, gripping softly and slipping away easily. Moving was difficult, and yet easy. Perhaps the most difficult part was not the moving, it was remaining still once one started. As bare as the one she now manipulated, she took her time in pressing breasts together, pancaking soft flesh around firm nipples, wriggling against the larger woman as her mouth found purchase on shoulder, collar, neck, and then lips.  
  
Nelaru’s eyes went wide again when Winnie’s own pressed against hers, a stumbling brush at first, the dwarf’s balance thrown off and forced to recenter atop ‘Ru’s leg once more before it came again, firm and forceful, accepting no denial in the least. The draenei’s whimpered refusal was met with a rich growl, both sounds muffled as the kiss went from firm to crushing, bruising fragile skin against teeth until at last she relented and parted the dark lips, and so Winnie’s own force eased. Their breathing, so at odds in their moment of bitter words, became as one. Until a slip of the hand took her breath away.  
  
The fire-headed dwarf glanced where her hand had slipped, her head tilting in some slight wonder when she realized that Nelaru’s folds were not just slick with the oil that very nearly made it impossible to breath, but her own sweet nectar as well. They dawdled at her lips, those fingers, teasing until the draenei was nearly mewling again, and then a single finger parted the way, stroking just an inch deeper until Nelaru could take no more, and found the means to bring her own hand forward, pressing Winnie’s firmly until the stumpy fingers were fully embedded, and her hips shimmied with her own pleasure.  
  
Winnie was at a loss, her amethyst eyes wide as she glanced from her hand and back up to Nelaru’s own azure gaze. “Ligh’, ‘Ru... dun tha’ hurt ye?” The fingers, only the digits, splayed inside the woman, as if flexing to see how far she could open the mageling who had seemed so very closed before this. The draenei’s head shook until her walls were prodded near rudely, and then she could only force a slight whimper, a guilty look. With fingers together again, the little dwarf focused only on watching the reactions of the woman who now loomed above her, curled almost as if bearing down to birth, yet her hand was slipping further within, coaxed by her and Nelaru’s moans.  
  
Briefly, her mind flashed back to the times where her mother had made shadow figures on the wall for her younger brother, the way they had laughed as the duck chased the dog and sang a song. An odd thought, as Winnie’s own hand made that same ‘bill’ within her partner, and then a fist, as natural as can be. Her movements stopped when the woman tensed around her as if to stop her from moving further, and Winnie was shocked to find she was up to her elbow in the woman, and ‘Ru’s head was tilted back in a display of agonized pleasure that Winnie had never before seen.  
  
So entranced with the sight before her, she didn’t notice Nelaru’s hands moving, the woman finding the ample ass of the dwarf and parting the cheeks, her slender fingers sliding down oiled flesh, skirting the taut rosebud there and dropping lower until she could slip three fingers beyond Winnie’s lips, making the dwarf turn a shade of pink that would have made roses jealous. Instinct, pleasure, need... they all wound together and Winnie moved, rocking her thick hips and grinding her clit against the draenei’s soft leg while the woman’s fingers curled and prodded, filled and twisted, until Winnie could take no more and returned her mouth to Nelaru’s nipple.  
  
Moans filled the room, growing in volume when Winnie moved her hand in time with her gentle rolling of hips, and even the woman beneath her moved and shifted, moving her own hips to tilt and turn, guiding Winnie as much as she was using her for herself. Raven locks tangled amidst red, tan skin pressed against dark, and both knew pleasure until it was hard to tell the heat of eachother from the one that boiled within them.  
  
“S-stop...” Winnie froze, her breathing ragged against the breast she suckled as her eyes squeezed shut tightly, against annoyance or pain she was no longer sure. “I can’t. I can’t do.”  
  
“‘Ru, ye are a bit too late ta be gettin’ col’ feet.” The dwarven woman growled, nipping the nub in her mouth and drawing out a pained gasp from the draenei.   
  
“I have no feet.”  
  
“Ye stop me, I’ll make yer li’e a livin’ ‘ell.” Her eyes opened, looking up at Nelaru from beneath her lashes. “Ye ha’e four fingers sunk in me, and I’m elbow deep in ye. If’n col’ feet be a kink for ye, it ain’t be one I’ll be caterin’ ta, ye hear?” Wickedly, her hand turned and pulled out, dragging knuckles gently along the walls of the woman and watching Nelaru squirm and whimper. She stopped just before that precious bundle of nerves, the one the woman responded to so well, pushing back in and letting her hips move and grind once more. When the heat was inescapable, when Nelaru’s moans had peaked and her own were muffled, only then did she touch that spot again, twisting her fist.  
  
The mageling’s eyes shot wide once more, a husky moan leaving her throat as she bucked up against Winnie’s arm, her own fingers curling and twisting until she felt Winnie spasm around her and her own howl was answered. She gushed, sweet girl cum flooding around Winnie’s arm and soaking the floor beneath them as Winnie herself sobbed against Nelaru’s breast, grinding herself down to prolong the wave of euphoria that swept around them both until it had parted, leaving them panting.  
  
Slowly, carefully, Winnie’s arm and then hand retreated from the spent draenei, splaying stickied fingers that she stuck playfully into her mouth despite the embarrassed groan of her companion beneath her. “Ye taste good, ‘Ru.” A playful wink was traded, the woman finally moving from her perch and staggering slowly to drop into the bath with a resounding splash. When she felt clean, devoid of the clinging oil, she made her way back out and picked her way back to the door, glancing over at Nelaru. “Ye... er...”  
  
Her chest rose and fell in slumber, fingers curled by one horn while the other arm lay protectively over her stomach. Once more, dangerous curiousity flooded Winnie’s mind, but she shrugged and pushed it away. They had fought dragons, Scourge, vrykul, more Scourge, and a couple of hormone-driven gnomes in the span of a few hours. Then they had fought and pleasured each other. That the woman, who truly did do so very much more than Winnie gave her credit for, would fall asleep right where she was came as no true surprise. To leave her there seemed cruel, however. With some difficulty, and some help when her efforts roused the fatigued woman just enough, Nelaru was washed and tucked away in the bed. When raven hair had hit the pillow, only then did Winnie see him.  
  
His hand raised to knock against the broken door, the innkeep would meet his second headache of the night as the fire-tressed goddess stormed over to the portal, grabbing his well-kept beard and tugging it hard enough to illicit a cry, just before kicking him in the jewels and pushing him from the doorway to stumble into the hall. The door slammed again, bits of wood showering his head, and her roar of annoyance over it all:  
  
“I told ye! One bed!”


	5. Arathi Highlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think that women are portrayed to be so fragile, so... innocent. In some part, there is truth to that. On the other hand, some can be just as cruel as the most heavy-handed male. Let us delve into something else, something without love and compassion. Something more... forceful.” The book moves in your hands, as if someone is rapidly flipping through the pages before the parchment settles. “Ah, yes. This one. Such a lovely little thing. A dominant female who cares little for those outside her own walls. Humiliation is not beyond her, pain is not far from one who angers her. Her wrath is shown equally to all, from the most slender framed dancer to the delightfully chubby servant girls. -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, introduction is too long for the summary. Mind the bit at the beginning! This one was a little rougher than my usual fare, and you may recognize the character!

Her love is a fickle one, if it is ever present at all.. A wicked soul who is not beyond using force and tricks to get what she wants. You will never be certain if one moment you are you, or if the next you have been transformed. She will teach you lessons, will make your evil deeds be pushed back on you, no matter if it is rape or murder. Your partners could be one or many... it matters not to her. You will be forced to take something or someone orally, made to scream as you lose your anal virginity and even your natural virginity. She is not beyond watching you scream as you are filled by a double-penetration, nor as one hole is stretched around two cocks, and your stomach swells from inflation.

Tread carefully, young one. A half-breed’s mind is twice as warped, her amusement can border on the dark, and no one... not even the gentlest soul, is spared when her reckoning comes. There is no warmth in the touch of ice, no shelter from the heat of her ire, she will throw you solo to the winds, and she will twist your wants and desires, and make you face them as if you were to look in a mirror. Tread carefully... my sweet.”

-

These were the quiet moments. A week had passed since her eighteenth birthday, her victory still fresh in her mind. Emerald grounds were cast in a sea of silver, the gardens quiet as the moon rose. Never was there a time of complete silence on these grounds; servants cared for the manor at all hours of the day and night, and those who had known the moon as goddess and power stalked the halls during these cool moments. The lake was a pane of silvered glass, rippling gently beneath the steps of the matriarch as she led her students in their teachings. The woods were alive with night-dwelling creatures, guarded by the emerald eyed druidess. Even the master of the home was not at rest, poring over books in his massive library in these spare moments of self that he could manage.  
  
Though she knew the passage of time, knew the way the world would turn with certainty that she could not wholly explain, this night was dark to her. Her success had brought her gifts that were not just material; one could not buy confidence, no matter how they wished. Yet it was in one such material place that she now stood. A circular room, lit only by flecks of light that drifted like motes of dust around her. Even drenched in darkness, she could make out every last detail of this room that she had worked - for the first time ever - in tandem with laborers to fashion. One could almost call the room a tomb; it certainly seemed to be such.  
  
Only one door opened to the hallway outside, made of a thick and dark wood that was good for holding enchantments. The walls and floor were stone, a very complex mineral that would suit her purposes perfectly in this room alone. At equal distances along the walls were shallow alcoves, more for decoration than true use, and between each alcove was an unlit sconce. No embers or wood rested in any of them; this was a room of power. A room of... promise.  
  
The young woman herself was the image of regal beauty and arrogant pride. Glossy black hair fell in gentle waves to the small of her back, pinned back with a clip of garnet that left only a few strands to fall over almond-shaped silver eyes. Full lips, a light shell pink, were set in a neutral manner below a fine nose. High cheekbones, the mark of her elven heritage as much as the slight tilt and point to her ears, were dusted a gentle flush by nature alone. What need had she for kohl or color? To add upon such was as if to add something more to a masterpiece. It was a compliment she cared not to remember.  
  
“Bring them.” The voice was soft, her head turning just enough to cast the gaze of a single silver eye over her shoulder as the door opened, and a group of seven was led in. They arranged themselves side by side behind her, some blinking uncertainly in the dim fae-light, others looking elsewhere. All wore the same thing. A simple brown linen tunic, and brown linen pants. The door closed as the two forms of her personal servants took their places beside it, their softly glowing eyes the only light in that corner of the room.  
  
“You will call me only Mistress. In time, if you have proven yourselves worthy, you will know more. Until then,” there was the soft swish of silk on stone as she turned, the garnet fabric rippling black in the sparse light. Her hands were held loosely behind her back. She had nothing to fear from the men and women who stood before her now, and her tone spoke it more than her words ever could, “I am Mistress. I am your goddess, your Light, your savior. I am Mother and I am Sister.” The steps she took matched the words as she slowly circled the group. Four men, and three women. “Your family has accepted gold for you. They sold you to me. They are nothing, I am everything.”  
  
“We will begin this simply. I have little time to train all of you individually, but you do have talents already. You have been chosen for these talents. -” Her tone changed as she reached out to the last in the line, a trembling young girl with downy blonde hair, her eyes closed. “You will find that I am gentle, as much as I can be strict. You are afraid, but you are not alone. Never alone.” The girl opened her eyes, and Kas’viri could see the tears there.  
  
“Take her to my mother.” The half-elf pulled those fingers from the girl’s cheek, a very rare smile given that was meant to comfort. “Those of gentle heart such as you belong in the care of those who can nurture and strengthen the heart you have.” She moved on as Mixna took the girl by the shoulders, gently guiding her back out the door. Relai stepped forward to escort another girl and two of the boys out as Kas’viri let her mind probe them, finding little use for them for herself. Her father, on the other hand... well, the red-head would be a good servant if he could break her. The boys had budding power that needed to be harnessed.  
  
This left three. One, she already knew. Torain bowed his head just slightly to acknowledge her, his green eyes twinkling with mischief. Oh, yes... that one had been fun. Such a dominant bearing, but he had yielded to her with only slight effort. It was not a form of love that made him do so, only respect. He would be kept. The other two caused her quite a bit of curiousity. The male was tall, his build one with broad shoulders and strong arms. Blonde hair was cropped just below his jaw, falling over his eyes just barely. Eyes of a deep chocolate that regarded her not with respect, but lust. She was  _prey_  to him. Oh, how  _precious_.  
  
Her eyes moved to the final figure, regarding her with some interest. It was not often that a woman would meet her eyes. Rarer still that the woman would feel such fear, but not for the one who regarded her as a slave, but for something else. Something closer... Kas’viri’s view pulled out, reading away from auras to basic body language. “Torain. Stand here.” Her foot moved to tap a spot between the man and woman, and the elven male moved silently there. Yes, there was something more here, evidenced in crystal clarity as the woman eased. Interesting.  
  
The half-elf gestured for the woman to follow her, moving to one of the many alcoves in the room, seating herself atop pillows that appeared with the wave of a hand. When the raven-haired girl paused a few feet from her, she reached, wincing as fear nearly took hold of her at the contact of hand on hand. With a gentleness only Mixna and Relai had been privy to before, the twisted woman guided the human girl to sit beside her, glinting silver eyes watching the woman’s forest green ones.  
  
“I’m not going to hurt you. Open your mind to me, so that we may speak in private.” Delicate fingers came to rest on the temples of the fearful woman, and Kas’viri was forced to fight back a wave of nausea as fear once more pushed into her. Such a large amount of fear. Together, their eyes fell shut, and Kas’viri was not surprised to feel the trembling fingers of the girl she sought to bond with gripping her skirt.  
  
 _“Please don’t make me stay near him.”  
  
“Make him go away.”  
  
“I’m so scared!”_  
  
The words tangled together, halting her progress like webs of spider silk laid over a doorway or path. The half-elf could spot her target just beyond, and so she pushed. A gentle push, and the webs fell away as she stepped further into the mind she had been allowed into.  
  
 _“I didn’t want it. I swear I didn’t want it!”_  
  
“Hush.” Her voice came with an aura of calm, piercing through the rank odor of fear and failure. Her hand, ghostly in this darkness, reached for the mind of the girl. “One touch. You can even let go the moment you feel uncomfortable.” As if she had been hidden behind a veil of black, the cover fell and a hand reached to grasp her own, and then touched -  
  
 _“Let me go!” I thrashed in the arms of the blonde male. “Let me go, Evan!” He only laughed at me, clamping his hand over my mouth as an arm hooked around my neck, and he dragged me into darkness...  
  
... “You should be grateful, slut. A fat whore like you would be lucky to get even half as good a deal as you’re getting now.” ...  
  
... My hands are tied. I know they are because they won’t move from above my head. Where did he get these ropes? Was I the first to have this done? Were all the girls taken like this? Is that vile half-breed the one who sends him to do this? ...  
  
... I can’t see his face anymore, but I ache. I can still feel his teeth on my breast, his fingers in my ass before he took me there, as well. Light, help me! What did I do!? ... _  
  
Kas’viri jerked from the touch, beads of sweat appearing on her furrowed brow as she spoke. “I have never sent someone to do that. If I cannot do it myself, it does not get done.” Rage was pushing through, making the frail image of the one she was in the mind of recoil. The half-breed looked at her for a long moment before stalking back down the corridors of that fearful mind, yanking herself away and back into the physical domain.  
  
It happened before she could control herself, before she knew what she had unleashed. Bindings of fire left her hands, wrapping about the leering males wrists. He was not looking at her as prey anymore. Each step she took away from that alcove and towards the two men radiated power. Every step triggered another rune, her wrath channeled into the very being of the rock and air, and she yanked on those bindings, relishing the yelp of pain that left the man as he was dragged, by invisible hands and his own pain, to the center of the room.  
  
The fae-lights spun about the room, growing in radiance as they collected in each of the sconces, leaving the room alive with light, leaving them to see the utter fury on her pretty features. “How long...” It was a growl, a low threat aimed directly at him. He may have been taller than her, but at that moment she was akin to a broodmother of the Flights, and the male quailed under the anger her silver eyes showed. “How long was she your victim? Answer quickly, or you will know pain that you have only heard of from the depths of tomes meant to scare children!”  
  
The girl had kept herself cowered in that darkened alcove, and she flinched only slightly as Torain joined her, his distance close enough to be reassuring, but not so close as to be a threat. The green eyes of the blood elf never left the one he willingly called his mistress. “What is your name?” His voice was quiet, and if it was to prevent the half-breed’s attention or simply because that was how he spoke, it was not clear.   
  
“Aria.” Her own green eyes, dark as the most forbidden forests, fell to her lap as she tugged nervously at the linen shirt she wore. “My parents are - were - farmers in Elwynn.” She flinched as she felt nimble fingers in her raven hair, only barely quelling a look of fear that was quickly dissolved beneath the quiet male’s eyes. “What is she going to do to him?” Fear and awe laced her words, a soft whimper parting her lips as Torain simply shrugged.   
  
“What needs to be done, Aria. The Mistress does only that, and never more.”  
  
Evan found himself pulled to his knees as easily as if she had clapped a collar around his neck and then stepped on the lead, forcing him to his position or risk his neck being snapped. The bindings around his wrists kept him down, leaving him with his neck bared to her, his body rigid. “An hour, maybe two.” His flinch did not go unnoticed as the slender halfbreed  _growled_  her anger, the sound coming from deep in her chest as she stalked around him, only the hem of her skirts seen to his eyes.  
  
Her silver eyes flashed to the alcove where the other two sat, the girl now laying with her head on one of Torain’s legs, clinging to him as he ran fingers through her hair as if she were a pet. The forest green eyes were blank, but met Kas’viri’s own if only for a moment, long enough to nod agreement to what had been said. When she turned back to Evan, it was only to speak with a voice like ice. “Two hours, then. One hundred and twenty strikes. One for each minute you pinned this poor woman and degraded her.” Another yank on the invisible lead that she could see and he could not, and he was standing with his arms raised at his sides as if he had been chained to a cross. His eyes met the frightened ones of the woman he had raped before she looked away, burying her face in the pants of the elven male.  
  
“You are not to look away from her until your punishment is complete. Every time you do, everytime you so much as close those eyes of yours for more than a blink, you will receive ten more strikes.” The half-breed was standing in front of him, still glaring. “You will count, and if your counting falters, we will begin at the beginning. Even if we are on your very last strike. Are we understood?” Her hand lifted to the neckline of his shirt, and in one quick jerk, the fabric yielded and tore, and she pulled it from his body. Delicate fingers traced along his chest and abdomen, making him shudder as he nodded.  
  
“Y-yes.” He near screamed as her fingers flexed, nails used as if they were claws as they tore down washboard abs to draw blood, her fierce look making him recant and try again. “Yes, mistress!”  
  
It seemed to please her, her eyes going from him to the blood that tainted the tips of her perfect nails. An unkind smirk found its way across her full lips, and the silver gaze went to the dark streaks now bleeding down his tanned skin. Those same lips parted and formed words, a chant that made the man writhe as her fingers touched the blood that seeped from his wounds and curled about her fingers, taking form as she pulled the hand away. The air around them crackled with the tainted arcane she was drawing from, her silver eyes flashing briefly as the thing took shape.  
  
When at last the swell of power ebbed and left Evan panting as if he had just endured a silent torment, she grinned again. The wounds had gone from him, but not entirely. Her hand lifted, displaying exactly what she had gained from his very body. Delicate fingers curled around a handle that eventually faded to a single tail. The tail was smooth but for the end, where he could spot tiny spikes that roughened the last six inches of what could be no less than four feet of tail. Where she could have gotten such an item, he was not sure, until the fae-light that lit the room illuminated the whip better, and he realized with a dread that chilled him to the bone that it was a deep, rich, red color... and it pulsed in time with his own heart.  
  
“Count, and don’t dare let your eyes fall from the one you wronged.” With a swish of fabric, the woman left his sight, and he was made to look at the girl who he had degraded. Out of fear for the pain he knew was incoming, his body tensed, and he grunted in pain as Kas’viri’s wrist flicked, and the whip met his skin. “One.”  
  
A sadistic gleam had taken residence in her pretty eyes as she continued her careless whipping. Along his sides, down his back, a flick of her wrist making the barbed end of the tail catch and drag on his tanned skin... and yet never once did his flesh open. Across his skin where it hit, crimson markings were seen and then faded as if being drawn back into his body. His tormented cries were the same as those who were having their skin flayed from their bodies. He would never forget this, even if his body never carried a single mark. A twisted form of necromancy that even her father would raise his brow at, but it suited her just fine at this moment.  
  
They reached thirty strikes before his eyes closed and his teeth grit in pain. The thirty-first strike was not counted, and she tsk’d quietly, speaking in a near singsong tone. “Back to one!” Again the blood-whip lashed out, and he groaned in pain as he began to count. Twice more he faltered, and twice more he was forced back to one, but not once again did his eyes close, though they did become glazed with the pain he felt but would not show. Only when at last he was released from his bindings, when at last the tainted whip was recalled and slipped sinuously from her hand to vanish like a maggot back beneath his skin, did he fall to his hands and knees.  
  
“Did that hurt?” Her voice was sugar sweet, carrying a dangerously sultry tone beneath it as her fingers skated over his quivering back. “I do hope it did, and let it remain a heavy lesson of how you don’t upset me.” She smiled as she stepped but a few feet from him, hands behind her back as she looked down at the whipped male. “Of course, that was only what my father would have done to you for this insult you have placed on me, and by extension, my kin. What I have planned for you is far more fitting. Stand, boy.”  
  
She turned to face the other two, her voice becoming gentle again. “Take the girl from this room, Torain. Find Mixna or Relai, and tell them both that she is to be bathed and given attention as if she were me. The chamber next to my own inside of the main estate is to be given to her, and she will have full use of the library and grounds until she chooses what she would like for herself during the rest of her stay with us.” Kas’viri let her eyes drop to the girl. “Let it never again cross your mind that I would permit such a heinous act to be performed on one who does not deserve it. Go now.”  
  
Torain wrapped an arm around Aria, guiding her to stand. They left the room quickly, only Aria glancing back to give an uncertain look to the half-blood and the human that now cowered at her feet, and then the door slammed shut. Kas’viri allowed the silence to linger for a few moments, letting him stew in his fear. It was a rank odor, matched to the colors of uncertainty and agony that she saw writhing about him. “You will learn of me, very quickly. Unfortunately, you will do so out of my hands.” A wave of her hand brought a summoned, simply fashioned, stool for her to be seated on, her legs crossing beneath the dress to leave only her slippered feet and ankles to his view amidst the silk and satin.  
  
“You have disgraced your family, and I will have you know that I shall be writing them to tell of this. That they should be ashamed that they sold me a cold-hearted rapist. That girl was not your first, but it will...” her dainty foot hooked beneath his chin, forcing his eyes to meet her own, “be your last. I am sickened by men such as you, who treat a girl as nothing more than a living doll for you to fill with your seed and leave behind. She was no conquest of war or your heart, and she was my property, same as you were.” His eyes widened at the past tense. “I keep nothing but the best, and the very image of you sickens me. How cocky you were, when you first were in this room. You looked at me as if I were like the others, and would be bent to you. Yet see you here, how you cringe before me like a beaten dog begging for shelter.”  
  
She leaned forward, her head tilting as fingers brushed over his face, touching his jaw and lips as her eyes followed their path. “You will learn by experience.” The voice was quiet, the malice and intent there as another pulse of arcane made his hair stand on end, her own swirling around her delicate shoulders as silver eyes began to glow softly. “Precious Eva...”  
  
His name did not finish from her lips, but his eyes had fallen and a gasp left him as he watched fingers that were thick and calloused with farm-work become smooth and dainty. Wrists and arms paled and thinned, losing their muscle. He scrambled to his knees, holding his hands out as he watched in horror as his body shifted and changed before his very eyes. Light, he could feel his hair growing on his head, coursing to his mid-back as his scruffy chin lost its own hair. “W-what are you doing? What is happening to m -” His voice! His voice had lost it’s low timbre and was now a sultry purr that quickly raised to a frightened pitch.   
  
She answered him with naught but a laugh as she watched his form become slender, his chest heavy with breasts that could have rivalled her mother’s, and thick hips that she knew a man would love to grip. His skin went pale as he shifted his legs and realized with an oddly pained sort of loss that his cock had shrivelled and balls retracted, becoming the sensitive clitoris and delicate folds of a virgin woman.   
  
“Give it back,” he whimpered, looking up at her with eyes that had widened with innocence and beauty, framed by thick lashes, a heart-shaped face surrounded with that golden hair. “Give it all back!”  
  
“No.” It was a flippant retort, the woman standing and brushing her skirts as if cleaning them as the stool disappeared. A wave of her hand, and his linen pants burned away to leave him nude and cowering once more. “What a pretty thing you are, Eva.”  
  
“Evan!”  
  
“Eva,” she retorted, her grin widening. “Who will believe you? No one will know you, little girl. You are helpless, and trapped. Only now that you have been emasculated in a truly literal sense can your lesson begin.” Another wave of her hand, and an ivy-etched collar secured itself around the newly delicate neck. A glimmer of silver passed between her hand and the collar, and the half-blood was left holding the end of a fine lead. “Don’t you look just charming? Come now, we have a lesson to attend.”  
  
\--  
  
The Dragon’s Den was not a surprising building. It was nestled within the darker parts of the small town that lay on the outskirts of the lands that the Lunarspell owned, a town run mostly by brigands and thieves who had run from their pasts and found refuge beneath a Lord and Lady who allowed them to build as long as they did not cause any trouble. It was a timid alliance, one that had been tried once and the lesson learned quickly.  
  
Two stories high, it was a tavern and inn all at once. It could house at least twenty-five guests in each of the rooms, though it was well known that the use of the tavern and inn were for the darker acts of life, and quite frequently each room held two or an adventurous four. In fact, the most shocking part of it all was that the fare that was served was always fresh and well-cooked, and there was a variety of alcohol ever present.  
  
The outside of it was not the most well-kept, which was also to be expected. The Dragon’s Den was the last building in what she liked to regard as the Thieves District. Her father did not split the land he lorded over in such a way, but it was easier for her to deal with such things in this manner. The thirty or so buildings that made up this small part of the land were built to be intimidating, a visual warning that the inhabitants were not what you’d bring home to mother. The inn was no different; flowers refused to grow, and the grass was brown and cracked beneath her feet.  
  
Eva whimpered beside her as, unsurprising to the half-blood, the window beside the door crashed to pieces as a man was thrown from it. Kas’viri cast only a glance to the man, her voice low. “Do not come back in.” For a moment, only the briefest of moments, the man looked as if he would give her a thrashing, and then his head cleared and there was fear on his features. Kas’viri smirked, pushing the door open and guiding Eva into the tavern.  
  
Inside, it was dark. Lit only enough for the barmaids to not run into the tables they served, and very likely make the more homely girls look like ravishing beauties if the alcohol was not enough, it was still a rather grand setup. The bar was set against the left wall from the entrance, with the stairwell to the kitchen just past it in the corner. Above it were the stairs that would lead to the bedrooms. Along the right wall and the floor were long tables, and those made a bit more round, all set apart just enough to allow the barmaids good room to pass by even when there were patrons seated.  
  
Two men, a high-elf and human, sat at the bar itself, and another was dusting his hands by the now broken window. All of them looked to the half-breed as she entered, and then more openly at the female that followed in on that gilded leash, naked as the day she was born. Kas’viri could hardly blame them. “Where is Roan? His wife, as well.” Her question was directed to the man at the window, a muscle-bound highland man wearing a white shirt and leather pants. “Fetch them, and then come back here.”  
  
The human man looked as if to argue, but seemed to decide against it. A shrug shook those massive shoulders, and he vanished upstairs. A pulse of arcane, and the chairs and tables amidst the room stacked neatly in one corner, leaving only one short table surrounded by five chairs. In another corner was a single plush chair and small table. In this single action she had secured her own safety from those who would take advantage of her. A flick of fingers sealed the broken window beneath a sheen of hard ice.  
  
“Good evening, boys.” The door locked behind her, sealed also with that ice. “I have a gift for you, but let us wait for Roan and Starlet, hmm?” The men shifted to watch the half-breed as she guided her companion to that table, coercing her up onto the wood on her knees. The collar shimmered, branching and linking to her arms, now behind her back, and then connecting to the table. Another thin strand ran from the collar between the ample breasts, to meet the table and seal. “Be a good girl, and don’t move.”  
  
“Little Mistress!” The voice was feminine, and gentle. Kas’viri looked up in time to spot the lovely tavernmistress descend the stairs and come close enough to curtsey. “It is good to see you. Where is your father? You’ve never come here before without him.”  
  
“I’m afraid my business here has a... personal touch. My father need not be bothered.” Another of those rare smiles pulled her lips as the half-elven tavern keep appeared, his arm wrapping around the waist of his wife. Kas’viri could smell the sex on them, and knowing Roan’s stamina, it was likely their fifth go. Her voice raised enough to address the others as she spoke, watching the chained girl blush and hang her head.  
  
“As you well know, my family does not take kindly to those who would steal from us. This young lady you see before you has stolen not from my father, but from me.” The eyes on Eva narrowed. “To teach her a lesson about how wrong such things are, and to... force a better respect for herself into her, I’ve brought her as a gift. Starlet, if you would?”  
  
The half-elven woman spun on her heel, making her way to the darkened corner to sit delicately in the plush chair. Her legs crossed, hands held lightly in her lap as she watched. Eva’s eyes opened wide in a silent plea as Starlet left her husband’s arms, sweeping behind with a flourish as she gestured for the men to take seats. They did, eyes never leaving the scene before them. Roan fetched a large pitcher of chilled juice and a goblet, setting them beside Kas’viri before taking his own place before his wife and their entertainment.  
  
Many would have teased Kas’viri for her choice of drink. All but those who knew just how unpredictable her magic truly was. While her father had the blessings of his god to help cleanse the effects of the drinks he imbibed quite frequently, his daughter had none of that protection just yet. It was a choice of her own. As it was, the image of the young half-breed casually swirling her drink in that goblet amidst the dark corner was an intimidating one, and it mattered not what filled the glass.  
  
Starlet was a lovely woman who took great pride in her body. She had never borne a child to her husband, and the reality of the fact was a painful one. He was fertile, it was she who was not. Yet as her friends blossomed and had to fight to care for their bodies, she did not have any such problem. Her breasts were large and full, still high on her chest despite her age. Her form was slender, with smaller hips and slender legs. She was a strong woman in body and spirit, and most of all, she loved attention. A jealous woman with a hidden sadistic side, she and Kas’viri had gotten along well the first time they met, and even now, it showed.  
  
“Stealing from the Mistress is punishable by death. You are very lucky.” Starlet’s voice was quiet in Eva’s ear. The collared woman only whimpered, her eyes squeezing shut as Starlet’s fingers trailed up along her neck, against the collar and then up to her hair where they curled and jerked within the honey strands. Eva’s eyes shot wide, a pained gasp leaving her as she was forced to look to the ceiling. “Let’s see what we have here...”  
  
 _“Don’t make a sound.”_ Burgundy liquid swirled in the goblet, glinting in the soft light that did not permeate her corner, letting her silver eyes be the light that glimmered so forbiddingly.  _“Isn’t that what you had told her? Not to make a sound? Now it’s your turn. Don’t make a sound, pretty little whore, or you’ll find that mouth filled.”_ Kas’ lips pulled in a wicked grin as she saw that chained woman squirm, writhing with shame while Starlet’s hands weighed heavy breasts, palming them and tweaking erect nipples. Eva whimpered softly as nails raked along creamy flesh, gripping the flesh at her hips.   
  
“A hefty girl. Look at these hips, my friends. Good birthing hips...” With a malicious grin, Starlet spun the table around, loosening the chains that bound Eva’s wrists only to tug her by her collar, delivering a swift smack to her ass. The men laughed as the woman cried out, not seeing her eyes shut tight as the fleshy bottom jiggled and then was still. “Bend further, little bitch.” The chains moved like snakes, pulling Eva’s neck down until she was laced to the table, her head held until it could move no more than two inches above the wood, her large and shapely rear left high enough with her knees pulled apart to display herself in the most lewd and demeaning fashion possible. “Good girl.”  
  
This was not a common practice. The villages that surrounded the sprawling Lunarspell estate knew that if punishment was to be doled out, it was handled fairly. Never before had a nude woman been led to a shady tavern and left to the wolves. Despite this, they would not push away the task that had obviously been set before them. Starlet was not beyond a little showcasing, and it showed as she slid her hands down ripe thighs, and then back up to part Eva’s folds. “Such a lovely little flower.” Two fingers slipped within, a shocked gasp leaving both the chained Eva and Starlet herself. “Mistress! A virgin, so rare indeed... “ A third finger, pushed to the first knuckle and held there as Eva squirmed, whimpers leaving her. “Oh, I wonder what you stole from the Mistress to deserve such a punishment.”  
  
“Matters not, my love.” Roan stood, positioning himself in such a way that Eva’s face was merely inches from his clothed groin. “It is not our business. But such a lovely present... tell us more of this innocent beauty.” His fingers curled in the golden tresses, gripping firm and pushing his groin to Eva’s mouth. “Muffle yourself with this, my sweet.”  
  
 _“Let me go... oh please, let me go!”_ Kas smirked again at the plea that rang within her mind, making certain that the cruel laughter that she would have voiced was sent back with her words.  _“Did you let her go, when she screamed for you to do so? Did you give in, before you had any wrong placed upon that poor soul?”_ She waited for that whimpered negative, her eyes narrowing.  _“Do as you’re told, little slut. After all, a fat whore such as yourself should feel blessed to be given such a gift. Four handsome men to fill each of your holes, and they will. Oh yes, they will. Eyes open, bitch. Just like you made her watch as you stole her pride, so too will you watch them. No teeth.”_ A sob rang over that mental communication, and Kas’viri forced the wave open, baring the gender-changed male’s pain to her.  
  
“Tell me, golden girl. Have you ever been with a man before?” Eva’s head shook as quickly as it could to Starlet’s question, a whimper tangling with the moan that left Roan as her mouth rubbed against his covered length. “Good girl. You should learn quickly not to lie.” Eva’s whimper became a pain-laced moan as another finger was forced unceremoniously into her unbroken cunt, Starlet’s skilled fingers shifting and curling along sensitive walls before something else took their place. She felt them long before realizing it, fingers scouring her flesh, palming heavy breasts, parting rounded cheeks, and she shuddered to feel what she knew was a tongue skating along her folds.  
  
“Tastes like honey.” The elven man chuckled as he stood again, letting his short black hair fall over his blue eyes. His thumb trailed from the slick folds up to the ring of muscle above, pushing just lightly and watching the woman squirm, her cries muffled against Roan’s leggings. Trion smirked, glancing briefly back to that darkened corner. Ah, the offering was sweet indeed, but that one in the corner... oh, he liked her. Why didn’t that pretty little thing join in the fun?  
  
The burly highlander grinned, slapping his broad hand against Eva’s plush rear, watching it jiggle and grow still again. Richard was not a man who would normally take part in the activities, but it had been a while since he had been with a woman. What was the harm in taking an offered gift?  _“None at all...”_ His eyes went wide in surprise, recognizing that dulcet voice that now rang in his mind. His grin faltered just slightly, glancing briefly to the corner before looking back to the blonde cowering on the table.  
  
“Go sit with the Mistress, my love.” Roan’s command was spoken beneath his breath, his teeth clamped tightly together as he waited for his command to be followed. So like his little minx, Starlet slipped behind him, unlacing his breeches and letting his length free to slap between Eva’s eyes. Her blue eyes looked down to the woman’s own, her hand slowly moving from the base of the half-elven member to the tip, a solid eight inches. The smirk on her pale pink lips was not a kind one, not even as Roan groaned under his mate’s stroking, a drop of pearly pre-cum dropping down from the mushroom tip to land on the delicate bridge of her nose.  
  
“Open, golden girl.” The chains holding her tightened, offering no leeway for her to squirm away as the tip of his cock was rubbed against lips that refused to open. Trion grinned, his leather-gloved hand lifting back to land firmly on the supple skin. Eva’s scream was muffled as Roan was hilted unceremoniously in her mouth, somehow not managing to trigger a gag that would have made it even more unpleasant. Eva dared not move as Starlet knelt beside her, pulling her ear and making her whimper around the cock in her mouth. “Bite my husband, and you will know pain beyond comprehension.”  
  
The four men watched Starlet sweep away to kneel beside Kas’viri, her head laying on the young woman’s knee. From the shadows crept a pale hand, stroking golden curls as if petting a beloved cat. “Continue. I want to hear her scream around that impressive cock. Make the little whore moan, and beg.” Kas’viri’s words were like silk against their ears, the dangerous undertone carrying all the threat that they needed to hear.  
  
The last man, a red-headed holy warrior, glanced once at that corner before disrobing. What shame was there to have here in this room? “Do we have permission to move her as needed, Lady?” His free hand coiled in those silver links that seemed like liquid under his touch, yet held as firm as steel rings. Upwards his hand trailed, digging into golden strands and gripping roughly for a few moments before sliding down her neck and spine.  
  
The chains vanished, leaving only the collar. Answer enough, for those four who now looked at her as if she were prey. Eva whimpered, casting her glance downward and grimacing as Richard gripped her beneath her arms and tugged her up, off of the table to stand facing the corner where Kas’viri sat. Roan groaned as his length was pulled from her unwilling mouth, his eyes glassy as she was made to kneel. “Right then. Eyes on the Mistress as you atone for your sins.”  
  
Eva near sobbed, her eyes squeezing shut as she heard the men strip around her, shying from the nudge of warm flesh on her cheek before yelping as her head was dragged back into position. “Come, pretty little whore. Get us nice and slick, and it will be so much less painful for you. I promise.” The elven man’s voice filtered down to her as his hand guided her own to his throbbing length.  _“I am not a woman!”_ Eva grimaced as her hand slid down the seven inch shaft, a wave of nausea fought back. “Thatta girl.”  
  
They praised her like a pet, like she was nothing more than something they could forget about. Cedric’s length prodded her other cheek, and her hand lifted as if it already knew what was to be done.  _The faster this is done..._ Kas’viri’s lesson was being made painfully clear. Two hours of hell for Aria alone, but he was made not to repent for those minutes, but for all the others, too. Farmgirls, merchant’s daughters... _“I’m sorry!”_ Swallowing down sickness, her attention turned to Cedric’s length, her eyes widening. There was no way that would fit!  
  
The red-head seemed to read her mind, his chuckle surprisingly kind as he shook his head. “Not to worry. It will go no where until you are properly stretched.” Eleven inches. Farm work had made judging measurements by eye a second nature, and Eva trembled. Richard appeared before her, his eight inches rubbing against her lips before forcing past as they were opened hesitantly. Straight to the back of her throat, his hands gripping her head as he used her for little more than his pleasure, pulling off just when Eva thought she would faint with lack of air. Her jaw hung slack as Roan took his turn, her hands pumping along the lengths of the others in time to his thrusts into her mouth, near unnoticing as Richard lifted her just slightly, enough to prod his saliva-slick tip at her rosebud and push.  
  
The men held her as she thrashed, finally relaxing enough as the man surged past that ring of muscle, tears streaming down her cheeks as their hands returned with a vengeance. Richard gripped her hips, lifting her atop him only to slam her back down, making her sob. If her stroking stopped, a blow was delivered to her breasts, making her scream in pain. Pain, this was agony and yet... a crimson blush stained her cheeks. Pleasure. Raw pleasure. Her noises were muffled around one cock, and then the other, her focus going glassy as the pain of Richard’s rough fucking dulled to an ache.  
  
So caught up in the fog, she gasped as something warm splashed across her cheek, hitting her lips before pelting her chest, and then there was more. Her tongue slipped out, suddenly disgusted as she realized what had happened. They had cum on her! With no shame!  
  
 _“Did you ever show any shame? I could pull through your memories right now, little slut. How many wore your seed, I wonder? Clean yourself.”_ Eva had no choice but to follow the command, releasing the lengths to scoop fingerfuls of warm seed into her mouth, until at last she had been cleaned. Hands pressed at her breasts, pushing her back to lay against Richard’s chest, the man tossing the woman’s legs over his own, forcing her thighs to spread wide. “Not gonna lie. This’ll sting, at least for a few moments.” Trion’s voice was gruff, lowering himself over her briefly before impaling his length, tearing her hymen in one swift thrust.  
  
Eva screamed again, her voice going hoarse as that pain became dull, and against her will, moans came from deep in her chest. This shouldn’t have felt as good as it did! Her tears came, trickling down cheeks aflame with shame as her head turned away. “No, no, pretty whore.” The elven man’s lips met her own, forcing hers apart and deepening to a kiss that Eva found herself unwilling to fight. The point had been made. Like all of her victims before, she now became quiet as her mouth was invaded, as her legs were pressed up against her chest and the two men worked in time to fill her, stretch her, leave her vacant, and finally, breed her.  
  
And she came.  
  
Once, twice, and finally a third time before the two men had their fill and pulled from her, coaxing her gently into Cedric’s lap, where she straddled and then collapsed, trembling. Coarse fingers worked through her hair, his words gentle as he worked his length into her seed slicked cunt, holding her gently as she whimpered again. Whimpers once more muffled as the others returned to be cleaned, her tongue trailing along the lengths with dazed care that made her feel sick at heart for how she enjoyed it as her hips slowly started to rock, stifling moans around Roan, around Trion, and even Richard. Cedric’s hands and teeth were against her skin, on her breasts, gripping and massaging the supple flesh.  
  
Pet. Whore. Slut. Bitch. Good girl. The praise came in the most demeaning words, a simple coo as she cleaned dirty cocks, and bent over to be ridden like a mare in heat for what seemed to be the thousandth time, until her stomach had distended slightly from how much seed had pumped into her womb, cum seeping from abused cunt and ass, drool trickling from the corner of her mouth to meet and mingle with the seed on her breasts. The sun had gone by the time the men collapsed, leaving Eva gripping a table as if for dear life, her breathing heavy.  
  
Only then did Kas’viri rise from her seat, stepping lightly over the half-awake men to step close to Eva, her delicate fingers tipping the woman’s head up from her clouded reverie. “I believe my point was made, yes?” The blonde nodded, whimpering slightly as she moved. She was so willing to be turned back now, so very sorry. Yet she shrunk away as Kas’viri’s lips pulled in that wicked, dangerous grin. “A shame I cannot reverse what I’ve done to you.” Eva’s eyes went wide, a moan leaving her, the most noise she could make from a throat so very raw. “Five thousand gold, and you can have that body back. Bring what dignity you have left, what pride you can maintain, and hope my father will show you mercy. You will pay him what we paid for you. You will buy yourself back.” She flicked eyes to Cedric as he rose, staggering to the bar. “I’m sure you could find work here.”  
  
The half-blood turned, offering a wave to Starlet as she helped her husband to his feet, a chuckle shared between the two. The door opened, and then closed again, and Eva found herself pulled into the darkness again, and no one heard her whorish, shame filled moans past the ice that seemed as glass. Kas’viri smirked, lifted a hand, and vanished.


	6. Winterspring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I do love families, don't you? We have explored, before, relationships between those who have hidden their statuses to each other. Lost family that appears again, a faded memory in the mind of one that enables them to sneak in and put themselves at a place of power. Not in this case...
> 
> Telya has never known her mother, spoiled by her father and elder brother in ways that none have really known too deeply. After all, what goes on in the home is none of the concern of others. Gifts and toys paved the way for illicit relations that she has no desire to attempt with those who might break her heart. Safe in the arms of her brother, she knows the value of lust by teasing, and the ecstatic pain that accompanies the last of one's multiple orgasms before one succumbs to blessed sleep. Driven into lusts by her father, she has long since given in to his oral and anal fixations. -"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A personal favorite, and another where the summary is too long for the start. Mind the beginning!

They are ever so careful to treat her right, with doses of drugs to dull her pain or enhance her pleasure, long moments of foreplay to make sure she is comfortable before they attempt the extreme on her, such as double penetration, and even the delightful nip of pain to makes her noises all the more sweet. But their intent this night has an aim, and everyone has come equipped, save for the young high elven woman who may find herself a tad bit inflated with the loads of cum they desire to fill her with, for what is a family without young, and what man would want their precious treasure to be impregnated by another who would do so in all the wrong ways?

You will find, child, that there are more ways than one when I say that something is not exactly right here....”

-

Sunlight glimmered over the hills of white that blanketed the landscape of Winterspring. Sunset turned the frigid canvas into a dazzling array of color, painting rosy pinks and pale oranges across the darker blues and purples of shadows that lingered beneath rocks and trees laced with frozen water in icicles and webs of frost. The storm that had come and gone was one of many through the year, taking none who lived in the area by surprise in the least.  
  
Frostsabers dwelled in dens with newly born litters, safe and warm, as much as the birds who had found shelter within the thick trunks of the evergreens that dotted the area. Just like them, there was one safe inside her den. Safe, and rather bored. Built to be hidden from view even when there was not thick layers of snow to be found, the elven dwelling of Telya and her family sat high amongst the cliffs.   
  
A single path led from the main road upwards to the door, lined by lights that glowed a dim blue and served a dual purpose. The illusion of rock and snow that covered the path was held by them as much as the very real lack of either, gentle heat keeping the path clear of ice and snow so that those who knew of it would be safe. It was this path that Telya watched with hope, her softly glowing blue eyes staring out past a fringe of silver bangs.  
  
Frost laced the windows, keeping her view mostly hidden by an intricate display across the enchanted glass. No matter how she stuck her hand against the frigid material, the heat from her small and blanket-hot palm simply would not remove it. Yet even with her frustration evident to anyone else, she was the picture of calm repose. Tall and slender, her young body was hidden beneath a gown of white that, despite the way it hugged her form, still managed to speak of innocence. Her feet were hidden in a pair of white slippers whose ribbons laced up her calves in much the same way as a dancer's would.  
  
A soft breath left her, a sigh of impatience as much as it was a sigh of worry. The home looked small on the outside, but within it was more than enough. She sat in the window seat of the living room, a warm and radiant fire burning within the fireplace behind her. A fur was placed on the floor, a table atop it just in front of the three plush chairs arranged in a half circle. Thick reading books rested on the table, an inkwell nearby with a fancy quill perched inside.  
  
The kitchen was opposite the room, a simple affair that was operated more by magic than logic. She had seen the typical fire pit that was used by the furbolg that inhabited the areas nearby, and couldn't imagine using anything that would bring so much smoke into her home. An ice chest stood against one wall, full to the brim of food that she could pick at whenever she liked. The stonewrought cabinets held delicate plates and utensils made from finely carved bone and ivory.  
  
Between the two rooms was a small hallway that led to a den of sorts. Having struggled with pulling a large enough bed through the small door, they had settled instead for a thick and luxurious pile of furs and pillows. Only one pile, set in the slight dip of the stone room, for the three of them. A bathroom, a simple offshoot to the bedroom itself, was partially hidden by a thick swatch of fabric.  
  
Not a large room in the least, the hot spring that they had discovered had not been built onto. It sat in an alcove, large enough for perhaps five large men. The stone had been carved into to hold the vials of soap and oils, as well as the towels they used to dry, but other than that, it was a room dimly lit by the strange light that came from the water. There were some who said that the water had healing properties, and Telya chose to believe that.  
  
Right now, the home was warm and welcoming. While the storm had blazed outside, she had felt nothing more than the comforts. It was empty only in her heart, and now she waited for her joy to return. Her father and brother, both who had set out two days before, promising they'd be back that night. Only they weren't. Her only company had been a dwarven lass who had gotten lost and nearly froze. She had left before the storm.  
  
When it remained as peaceful outside as it had been for a long while now, Telya stood, letting her dress ripple down her legs to settle around her ankles. Fine. If they wanted to make her wait and worry like this, then she'd make them believe she was perfectly alright with them being gone. Even if all three of them knew that she truly wasn't. With a huff and a light step that suited her slender frame just right, she vanished into the bedroom, settling herself down on the pile of furs. Sleep came quickly, plunging the girl into a world of dreams.  
  
When she woke, it was to the sound of rustling. Furs, she knew... the sound had been ingrained in her mind without end. It was bound to happen when she spent so much of her time on them. Yet there was more to it; a gentle clinking of some sort of metal on another. As her mind cleared, she recognized it as well. Chain mail armor, and only one she knew wore it. Telya's eyes opened, and to her surprise, she was met only with darkness across her vision, save for a dim, almost fire-like, glow around the edges of whatever may have covered her eyes.  
  
Attempting to remove the obstruction was impossible; she knew it the moment she tried to move her arms. Her delicate wrists were encased in something that was cool against her fingers if they curled to touch it, but warm against her skin. “Feron...” Telya's voice was a whisper, her breath sucked in as skin made contact with her own, grazing up from just beneath her navel to the lines of her ribs that showed as her back arched, craving more of that touch. She was dimly aware that she had been stripped, could feel the silk at her chained feet as they pointed and her toes scratched the stone floor.  
  
“Please...” The whisper broke down in the wake of a plea as rich with arousal as it was with aching, unfilled want. Yet the fingers, made rough by time spent fletching and fighting, ran with unprecedented skill over every part of her but the ones she truly wanted. A groan of anguish spilled from her as those same fingers trailed temptingly over her right breast, feathering over ivory skin and missing the nipple that had hardened almost painfully under her assailant's caress.  
  
Her senses ran wild, making up for her blindness by increasing her sense of touch, her smell, her hearing. The fingers gave way to something soft and fine, tracing circles around the pale pink nub of her left breast, another tracing the skin along her hip in such a way that she cried out and tried to squirm away, sending her restraints into a crash of noise against the stone. The feather drew away from her side, trailing inward to ghost over her bare mons and then lower, a swish of invisible hand tickling the feather along her labia.  
  
A slew of elven curses left her, rising in pitch as feathers gave way again to hands, and then lips. Not soft lips, either. The Ranger she knew was toying with her spent too much time out of shelter to keep his features soft, and yet she reveled in the roughness of his skin. She felt him move, the wake of sound behind him showing her more in her mind than she could see at that moment. The firelight that danced along her blindfold shifted; he moved from her side, deftly straddling her slender leg and then moving again so that he was between them, his hands gripping and rubbing her thighs.  
  
She knew that he was watching her, testing her reactions. Telya knew he loved the way her fingers flexed and curled as she was pushed along her rising tide, loved the dulcet moans and harsh language that left her in a moment of passion. She knew that he was toying with her, keeping himself so very close and yet tormentingly far. Her hips shifted as he moved closer, and she shuddered in delight as something warm and smooth pushed against her scalding sex. Again the shadows shifted, and she felt his hair trail along her stomach.  
  
A whimper was her plea, the flex of her fingers showing clearly just how much she longed to grasp that thick, black tail of hair that he now tormented her with. How much she craved to twist it around her delicate hand and use it to drag his face to all those spots he so sorely teased now, and a cry rang out in her frustration that she could not. Breath, not the warm kiss of a summer's day, but the hot and slowly expelled breath of her kin rolled up between her breasts, his rough lips nibbling at her flesh.  
  
When she opened her mouth again to beg as she knew he wanted her to, she was muted by his fingers. They danced lightly over her lips, as if asking for permission, before pushing roughly between. Eagerly, without pause, she suckled them and noted the strange taste that seemed to linger. Not just his skin, no. Feron tasted of the wilds, but this was more than that. Something sweet that held a bite that made her mouth water as if she had thought of something sour. It was untraceable; Telya hadn't the slightest thought what it was or reminded her of. Yet she cleansed his fingers of the slick liquid, caring only that as she did, he was slowly grinding that smooth object against her aching nethers.  
  
The hand pulled from her mouth, his chuckle resonating strangely in her mind. It was as if she heard him briefly from underwater, or muffled by a pillow, and then it cleared again and she was wholly focused on the feeling of his tongue dragging along her breast. Her breath caught, a choked groan escaping as the single action sent her body into a maelstrom of reaction. The grip of his hand on her inner thigh brought a warmth that seemed to detach and boil between her legs. Confused and frightened by the odd feeling, she whimpered, and received his comforting reprimand in the quick grip and release of his hands.  
  
“Maybe a little too much for you, hmm?” His voice rang in her ears, once more doing that strange fading in and out as if she were hearing him from behind a wall. She couldn't think about it long, his teeth closing on the skin of her neck and suckling the skin between, dragging a wailing moan from her as her spine arched and her hips moved, grinding her sex on that smooth surface. She felt him move beneath her, so that when her hips lowered again, the material parted her lips and teased the sensitive bundle of nerves between. With a cloudy sort of recognition, she realized that he was tormenting her with himself, with the barrier of the metal that guarded his groin from impact during combat.  
  
His mouth found her nipple, teeth closing around and tugging it gently. Telya's mind was lost in the motion of her hips, knowing he had stilled in his own to allow her to move against that slick and smooth guard until her breath was coming in ragged gasps. Her mind fought with her body, not wanting this to be the end of what was so tormentingly blissful, and it fought back by twitching and flexing, her ankles dying to be free of chains so that she could wrap her long legs about his waist. His only response to her was a grip of her hips, shifting so that as he loomed over her, the metal slid and ground against her, and he smiled as she screamed.  
  
It came quickly, more powerful than any she had ever experienced before. She felt the pain of muscles seizing briefly and wanted to sob as the flow of ecstasy soothed her, leaving her little more than a sobbing and mewling mess. She barely noticed when her hands were freed, his strong arms hooking under her shoulders and lifting her up so that she straddled his lap, her head on his shoulders. “Undress me.” She heard him laugh as her hands moved slowly to the blindfold over her eyes, and felt his hands bat at her own, lowering them down. “No. Like that.”  
  
She mewled, her lips forming in a brief pout that gained only a soft chuckle from him. The chains attached to the manacles on her wrists clinked against his armor as she felt her way along him. Fingertips grazed over his brow and down the fine nose and high cheekbones that were common among the elven races. They splayed, finding his sun-parched lips, dancing along the cupid's bow before dipping lower and tickling along his goatee and outwards along his strong jaw.  
  
Her reward came as she explored; the tender kiss of his lips on her fingertips, the playful nip and tug of flesh on her neck as her head tilted back and hands sought beneath his pauldrons to undo the straps there. They ignored the clank as one hit the stone, the other muffled on the furs. Shaking fingertips slipped under his arms, releasing the buckles that held his mail close to his chest. With only the briefest of partings, it fell beside the shoulders, forgotten. Her touch grazed the butter-soft leather that guarded his skin from his armor and insulated him against harsh weather. As his mouth found her own, she lifted the fabric away, just enough to sneak her hands beneath and rake nails along his flat and toned stomach.  
  
His reaction was fierce, pulling out of her kiss and sliding his hands along her arms until they met her wrists, and they were lifted above her head. The clink of metal became louder, and she struggled playfully as his hands came back down, leaving hers attached to a rope that hung from a pulley system on the ceiling. “No fair...” He was careful to help ease the position, allowing her to perch her finely formed rear on his knees as he worked to free her ankles. “Never said I was going to play fair, sister.”  
  
Telya gasped as her body rose, pulled upwards by his grip on the other end of the rope. As her toes left the floor, she found her legs wrapped in one of his arms, helping to support her. Nevertheless, she trembled, knowing what he was going to do, and knowing she couldn't take it. She made no move to stop him as she felt herself stop rising, the motions of him tying off the rope making her shake just slightly. It was only a moment, and then his hands were running along her legs, keeping them together as he breathed along the skin.  
  
She moaned, her head falling back again as his nose trailed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, one of his hands slipping between to drag the rough pads of his fingers up and then down the heated flesh. Her breath caught as his own ghosted over her mons, her legs squeezing around his hand as she clenched them together. She knew he was watching her again, that sweetly sadistic grin on his lips as he bent near enough to nudge the apex of her folds with his nose; not enough to make her moan, but more than enough to make her quiver.   
  
Telya shuddered as his breath crashed against her skin, his other hand slipping between her legs and forcing them to part, sliding upwards until he held her ass in both hands, guiding her legs over his shoulders. She heard his muttered praise, there and then forgotten as his tongue swept along her labia in a teasing stroke. Once, twice more, and then he took one into his mouth, drifting teeth along the swollen skin as he suckled until her cries of pleasure became pleas for him to stop, and then he did the same with the other. She cursed him in their language, bucking her hips up against his mouth in a futile attempt to gain more from him other than the teasing, aware that the second wave of pleasure was rising within her.  
  
When she thought she would scream, his tongue sunk deep within her, pulled out and dragged up along her clit, and then over the hood and back down. He varied his strokes; soft and languid, rough and brief, sometimes ignoring everything but the little pearl of nerves, and sometimes coming so close that Telya released a growl of frustration as he passed right by it. All the while, she knew he grinned and watched her. Oh, how she hated his teasing! Frustrated, her skin dampening with the heat of the fire that crashed along her back, and the effort of restraining her second climax, she barked his name, and he ceased his teasing with a laugh.  
  
Cold, wicked, deeply foreboding. A laugh that made her body moan even if she kept herself silent. She felt him shift, felt the tiny pinches of his teeth on her skin as he drew away, lowering her legs and feet so that she was still hanging from the ceiling, supported only by her wrists. She heard him move, heard him finishing what she had started; his armor fell to the floor one piece at a time, the soft leather beneath dropped and all of it kicked aside. The slow burn between her legs subsided, moving up along her body until it was in her arms, along her back, down her sides. Slender fingers flexed and wiggled, trying in a vain attempt to grasp her chains and pull herself, but her brother had done well. Such a thing was impossible.  
  
The snap of the fire that warmed her made her pause, made her realize that she was alone. “Feron?” His silence frightened her, and she remained still if only to hear his breath. Her own came in gasps, and just when she thought she could handle the pain no more, he was there again, and she shrieked. Something cold dripped down along her back, slipping along her spine and over the curve of her rear. Water, but it was more than that; it was as if he was drawing on her, writing runes onto her skin with his finger... but her brother was no mage. Another prodded at her, trailing over her hip and around front, and she shuddered as it slipped between her legs and twisted at her labia.  
  
Telya shivered as cold, piercing and relentless, toyed with the slick heat of her sex. She shouldn't have enjoyed it as much as she did, but she moaned in a way that would have made most whores blush as the thick and chilly item sunk into her. The young half-elf didn't want the feeling to die, didn't want that fragile item to melt away, but even as her walls gripped and rippled around it, it was slipping away from her. She could feel the water dripping from her, felt it run down her thighs and hang from her toes, could hear it hit the furs beneath them as her legs twitched and kicked the droplets from her.  
  
“Something more...” She felt the pulley move, the tug on it as he levered her down until her feet were firmly touching, and then more and more, until her hands were behind her head. One arm wrapped around her body, pulling her back against his chest while his hand groped and squeezed at her breasts, a mixture of yelps and murrs of approval leaving her parted lips. Most of all, his length that was tucked against her backside. “Is there something you want, Telya?” She felt his cock twitch as she moaned and nodded, her head tilting away as his lips brushed along her neck and up her ear. “Do you know what we're going to do to you tonight?”  
  
That tone again, the one that made her shiver and could make her blood run cold even as her body heated. She shook her head, her eyes closing behind the blindfold as his touch left her breasts and fled lower, his fingers slipping along her labia, drifting vexingly over her clit. “You're going to be both of ours, Telya.” A nip at her ear, at her neck, his other hand coming up to tilt her head further back as he closed teeth on her throat and suckled the flesh there until his mark was left. “Both of ours, at once... but until our father gets home, you are just mine.” She squirmed as two of his fingers thrust inside of her, curling and rubbing lightly against that hidden bundle of nerves while his palm ground gently against her clit.  
  
“Such a good sister you are, to me.” She purred, blushing at his words more than his actions. “You will be such a good little breeder, too.” Her lips formed a word, and lost it as his free hand moved to settle over her stomach. “Think of it, Telya. You'll have our child... our love in mortal form. So much more pure than letting someone else have you. Tell me how much you love the idea, sweet sister. Moan for me...”   
  
She did, manipulated by his words as much as his constant toying with her body. He was rocking against her, dragging his length between the firm cheeks of her rear in time with the thrusts of his fingers, and she was answering him. She barely noticed when his free hand left her stomach, pressing against her back in a silent request for her to bend even as he coaxed her to step back with firm, almost painful motions with the hand sunk into her. Three fingers, four fingers, buried in her while his thumb flicked and rubbed at her clit.   
  
Telya was sobbing, now. Quiet moans and whimpers tangling together to form something that begged him to finish her as much as she wanted to him never to stop. Her breath hitched as his fingers moved, slipped from her so close to her peak that she nearly screamed, and then suddenly he was inside her. Telya normally whimpered when he entered, but this time it was easy. She felt him stretch her, bottom out inside of her, and she gripped as he withdrew, savoring his groan of pleasure. It was all she needed, to hear him like that, and when he pushed into her again, he gripped her hips and pulled her back, pulsing and pressing, and she heard him grunt beneath her moan as she came again, twisting and writhing against him.  
  
Feron let her come down, supporting her with one arm while he undid her wrists and lowered her gently to her knees on the furs. She sunk to them slowly, her cheek pressed against the thick and soft bedding as fingers curled in the fibers. Her body weakly twitched around him, rippling around the length still buried in her. She heard something clicking, a soft creak; a box, likely opened. His hands were on her back, rubbing her aches from her shoulders while he slowly moved his hips, pulling himself from her to tease her lips with his tip before slowly and gently pushing back into her.  
  
When he finally withdrew completely, she felt empty. Normally, he would not leave her like this, content to spill his seed into her. Something pressed to her sodden and puffy lips, and she moved back against it, stopped only by his palm on her rear. “It won't...” Her words stopped, her head turning so that she could bury her face in the furs as her breath hitched and she grimaced. Whatever he was now filling her with did hurt. It stretched her too far, and the material was cold and slick. Not ice, but something that warmed quickly to her own body heat. She mewled as he bent over her, whispering sweet and comforting words into her ears. Good girl. Sweet girl. His toy and pet. He was proud of her, and this knowledge made her heart fly.  
  
All the while, his cum-slicked length pressed against her rosebud, pushing and relaxing. She groaned, shaking her head and mumbling into the furs, caught between craving what she knew what he was going to do, and fearing it. There was no way he would fit and keep that toy inside of her as well, but she knew, as he moved his body over hers and braced one hand alongside her head, that he was going to try. She shuddered, moving her head to muffle an uncertain whimper against his wrist as he pushed into her. As always, he was gentle, and she couldn't stop the whorish moans that spilled from her. It hurt, and every inch of him that he pushed into her ass was felt.  
  
“Light...” He couldn't have been more than halfway into her, and already he was having to choose between keeping the toy inside of her with one hand. “Does it hurt, Telya?” She thought about it for a moment, pushing the fog of lust from her head. Yes, it hurt... but it was a dim hurt.   
  
“Keep going...” Telya whispered against his wrist, her body trembling. She could feel his surprise, felt him adjust slightly before he continued to push his length in. Another inch, and then another, and finally she could feel his thighs against her own, his sac firmly pressed against her lips. They remained still, her fighting not to clench around him although her body begged to allow it, to fight the invaders from her, and he panting into her neck, his face hidden in her silken hair.   
  
“I don't think this is going to work how I thought...” He gave a weak laugh against her skin, and she joined him as they trembled together. “At least the salve works. If it gets to be too much, precious... tell me. Until then, moan for me.” She felt him withdraw, his pace quicker than before, and her moan was a sharp noise as the toy in her sodden cunt shifted and pressed. It wanted to leave, the movement and space taken up by his girth in her ass trying to force it out, but he kept it pinned with his hand as he moved.  
  
Telya gripped at the furs, her mewls alternating between quiet and muffled, and sharp. No matter how she tried not to, the closer he pushed her towards a third peak, the less control she had of her body. Her walls gripped and flexed around the toy, and he took to surprising her; pumping himself and the toy deep within her so that she'd be full, and sometimes only one at a time. His groans opened into full moans, his head tilting into hers and nuzzling in that affectionate way he had to show that while he could mate her like a beast, he was a man. He was her brother, and he loved her.  
  
“No more... Light, please no more!” It seemed impossibly soon to her, so soon after he had started to slap against her thighs that she finally screamed for mercy, and he paused but a few strokes later, his breathing ragged in her ear. She knew then that they were both so close, both standing on their edges and just waiting for the final push. “It hurts, Fer.” It did, it hurt so good that she was ashamed to be backing out of it so soon, when she could smell their arousal and feel the sheen of sweat on his skin, but she heard the love in his voice as he whispered to her.  
  
“One more for me, Telya.” He pleaded with his younger sibling, hilted in her ass and so close that it was torture to even consider leaving her. Not only that... “I bought something special. Something for my little cumwhore.” She groaned at his words, hiding her face and her blush, knowing that he grinned, knowing that he knew she loved hearing him talk like that. He used it as a weapon, teasing her into agreeing with him, and like always... it worked. “That's my girl. My sweet little succubus...” They groaned together as he started again, but his hand moved from the toy this time, gently rolling her clit between his fingers as his pace increased.  
  
Telya saw stars. They flashed before her eyes in the blindfolded darkness that she had become accustomed to, and the wave of pleasure hit her with such force that her scream was soundless, and her entire body bore down on his own. He had placed his hand over hers, held them above her head and pinned to the furs, and she was glad for that. So glad for his comforting touch as he hilted in her, his own low, growling moan mingling in her ears as he came, and flooded her ass with his seed. She lost herself, a gasp becoming something else as her walls bore down around the toy and it slipped from her, a strange feeling that left her feeling mildly empty as she was filled with more cum than she had ever felt before. Her lips moved to speak, but weariness took hold, and she was only barely aware of her brother hooking his arm around her middle, trying to keep her straight as darkness took her.  
  
Awareness brought a new range of sensations when she woke again. Warmth, and a slight ache that lingered in her throat and between her legs. That delicious ache of having oneself stretched just a bit too far, perhaps. She was almost surprised to find that she could see when her eyes opened, and her glassy gaze took time to focus. The bath... she was in the bath, and someone was washing her. A low moan left her, her head falling back against a broad shoulder. “There's my sweet one.” Feron's voice filtered in through the haze in her mind, his lips brushing against her cheek.  
  
“S'morning...” She knew her voice was rough, a rasp that was slowly healing. Her gaze went downwards, over her own body, shocked to find that she was marked heavily. He seemed to understand, his arms wrapping around her and squeezing. Everything should have hurt far more than that dull ache, but it didn't. She made no real attempt to move when his arms swept her up, and he walked out of the bath and into the bedroom again. The fire had been stoked, toasting the room, but it was the man in front of it that she focused on.  
  
He reclined in front of the flames, the glow illuminating the outline of his body. One hand propped his head up and away from the furs, the other was in front of him, and with a low moan, she realized what he was doing and squirmed from her brother's grasp. Walking took a moment to return to her, the knowledge of it having been lost to her legs, and she stumbled rather ungracefully to her father and dropped beside him, her fingers curling in the raven locks. His actions stopped, his body twisting as he released his shaft from his grip and laid flat on his back amidst the furs. “Well, what do we have here? Someone to help take care of this forgotten man?”  
  
She grinned at his teasing, her lips meeting his own in a brief kiss that was deepened as his hand wound in her hair, holding her there. Behind her, she felt Feron kneel, his hand slipping between her thighs and rubbing at her labia. A purr left her, body moving back into the touch as she was released from the kiss, making her way down her father's sculpted body until his length was in her vision. Feron was a long boy, but his father was thick.   
  
Kordil groaned as he felt Telya's tongue lap timidly at his crown, his fingers flexing in her hair. He didn't dare command her to hurry, knowing that she was just as eager as he, but she so loved using her mouth to please him. Her moans certainly didn't help matters, his head falling back as his tip was enveloped by her soft lips, her hand running along his length to stroke his shaft a few times before she began drawing him in more, bathing his cock in her tongue as she slowly coaxed him further into her mouth.  
  
She loved the taste of him, and she moaned around his length as her brother pushed two fingers into her. There was a scent in the room; beyond that of arousal and sex, beyond that of musk and sweat. Her eyes fluttered open, searching for the source, and she spotted a small chest of vials lying open nearby. Some of the simple glass items were missing, and she was certain that if she got close enough, they would smell of what now lingered in the air around them. Her lips brushed the skin of his pelvis, her hand skating along his inner thigh before she gently massaged his sac.  
  
Her father shuddered under her attention. She had been right in guessing that he had been busy at work while she was being bathed, for it was the exact thing he had been doing. When her mouth left his length, he groaned as her attention went to his balls, suckling them and rolling them in her mouth before returning to his member. She was good, and he was already halfway to his peak when he finally pushed her away, shivering when cool breath ran along his slick length.  
  
“Come here, Tel.” It was a whispered command, and she followed without pause, straddling his hips and laying herself in his arms. “You smell like home, sweet one.” His face buried in her hair, fingers petting along the strands and her neck as her hips moved, teasing herself with his tip. “Go ahead...”   
  
Telya glanced up only briefly as her brother's fingers appeared at the corner of her sight, pressing against her lips. She opened her mouth, cleansing the digits of that same slick liquid from before. Her father's lips at her neck drew a purr, her brother stealing a kiss before he vanished from sight behind her, and at her father's insistence, she lowered herself, impaling herself on his cock.  
  
Bliss folded her in its arms, her back straightening and then bending just slightly as her hands propped on his knees behind her, and she wriggled a bit atop him until she was comfortable. His hands lifted, playing with her breasts as she rode him, her pace increasing as the minutes went by, and her moans increased. She was almost saddened when his grip shifted to her hips, holding her down as he twitched inside of her. She struggled, so wanting to continue, her own hands pulling at his as a silent plea for him to release her.  
  
“Father hasn't taken anything like I have...” Feron's voice was quiet in her ear, his palms pressing against her back. Telya gave in, falling along her father's chest, kissing the bronzed flesh. “Precious little sister... our precious little whore...” She blushed under his praise, her breath hitching as she felt him shift behind her again, and the familiar pressure of his tip was there, but not where she expected.  
  
“Fe - ...” Her head turned, looking at him with such fright that he paused for a moment before shaking his head, and pushed. Telya released a pained groan as her slick lips parted further around the second invader, her hands seeking purchase in the furs beside her father's head. She was sure she'd split in half, and she realized what they must have given her; a pain reducer, something to take the edge off this agonizing feat. “You're going to break me!”   
  
Yet she didn't break, her breathing ragged as Feron pushed into her until he was hilted the same as his father. Beneath her, Kordil's eyes were closed as he focused, but she knew that he was fine the moment his legs moved, bracing his feet as his hands slid under her hips to keep her in place, and then she was writhing as they both slowly pulled from her. She felt her father slip out completely, a soft curse under his breath as she aligned herself again and he entered her once more, followed again by her brother. It was a slow process, getting her used to them both taking her in the same hole.  
  
Kordil watched his daughter as their pace increased. Her hair splayed out around her head like a halo, her mouth just barely apart from his skin as she whimpered and moaned, unknowing if what she was feeling was supposed to hurt, feel good, or a mixture of both. The salve they had purchased had clearly been wise, from the way her features took on the look of one in pain before they melted into bliss.  
  
Feron had his hands everywhere, kneading her back as he fucked her gently, alternating paces with his father. When Telya's moans began to come faster, closer together, he leaned over her back, twisting his rough fingers in her hair to pull her head back. While he spoke, his father kissed and nipped at her neck, bringing tears to her eyes. “We're both going to cum in you, Telya. At the same time. Do you think you can handle all that cum, my little whore?” She trembled around him, and he grinned. His eyes caught those of his father's, saw the warning in them, and he stepped up his pace, praising his sibling as much as he degraded her.   
  
Telya was so close, her brother's words making the ache in her more pronounced, and suddenly, they were hilted in her, and with a cry that was shared between all three of them, they came. Like before, she was filled with more cum than she knew was possible, the sticky fluid spilling out around their cocks as they released into her. Her body was awash in the glow of her first wave when the second hit, and she collapsed against her father as the two thrust into her, determined to force her to ride that wave until she could no longer move.  
  
Feron moved first, pulling from her and helping her sit up, his voice low and filled with a sort of wonder. “Look, Tel. Look at yourself...” His hand skated down her torso, resting on the gentle swell of her stomach that had been absent before. “Our little breeding slut. You like it, don't you?” He smirked as she nodded, too weak to care one way or another. Their father moved, sitting up and laying her down on her back, and the toy from before was procured to replace his cock in her. “Now, you'll keep that in you, like a good little whore. Soon, you'll swell with child. Our child...” His voice lulled her, and he knew she wouldn't need the sleeping draught to stay asleep this time.  
  
Kordil groaned as he stood, forced to brace himself against the mantle of the fireplace before he could manage the strength to make it to the kitchen. He'd have preferred to wait a few days before setting them on his daughter, but when his wife got into a mood, it was better to appease her than to delay. He was alone for a time, could hear the splashing of someone bathing over the gentle breathing of Telya, and he wasn't surprised in the least when he moved to the window to watch the snowstorm that had started just before he had returned home, an a damp chest was pressed against his back.  
  
“She's going to ache for a few days, you know. You do a number on the girl when you've been deprived for a time.” He smirked, turning in the grasp of the other to look down at her. Feronia simply smirked back up at him, her hands weaving up into his hair to pull him down for a kiss. “I'd be envious of the time you get with her, if it wasn't so clear she loved the attention. It's almost a shame you love being a man more than you do being the lovely woman I married.”  
  
Feronia laughed, tossing him a coy glance before seating herself in one of the chairs before the fireplace, her legs thrown over the arms as her fingers slid over her sex. Without the potion that made her fully male, the woman was a reflection of her daughter, but dark where the younger woman was light. “I get the best of both worlds, my love. Come away from the window, I'm cold...” Her tone was sultry and inviting, a finger crooked in his direction.  
  
Kordil chuckled, turning fully towards his wife. He considered making a show of leaving her there, punishment for starting the fun with their daughter without him, but instead he came close, kneeling in front of the chair and grasping her legs, pulling her so that her rear hung off the furniture. His length, already half-hard again, throbbed against her folds as he leaned forward, nuzzling her neck and cheeks before whispering. “Incorrigible...”


	7. Orgrimmar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know, there are a few times in my expansive memory that I have found random slips of paper caught between my pages. I keep them, because I believe that all books should carry the wealth they are bestowed, and for me... well, this was one that I needed as it was.
> 
> We jump to the other side of the fence, away from the races you know as oh-so-civilized to the ones your people believe to be savages. Of course, what you believe to be savage, I think you now know can be done on either side. Forgive me, I'm beginning to ramble, and I can tell you're eager. Let's see..."
> 
> The pages flip, slowly until they settle on one that has been gently secured into the book by seemingly magical means. -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend actually wrote this for me as a gift, but permitted me to include it into the collection. I'm humbled by his kindness, and I couldn't help but share! The summary was too long, so mind the beginning! If you're familiar with my Black Collar Academy series, some of these characters may be familiar!

"We travel now to the grand city of Orgrimmar, where the hunters become prey to other hunters, and the prey is finally trapped. A youthful blood elf likes to trail men and women alike, offering herself up as a prize if they only catch her. Prostitution without the money, I would say... but everyone wins in the end, no? At the whim of a dashing rogue, and his canny and cunning companion, our precious little tease experiences her sensual world through sensation, the ties about her keeping her still while she is ravaged by both men, every hole she has to offer them filled with their cocks and fingers, forced to service them with her every hole...!"

"You look at me like I'm insane, do you know that? So what if I get a little excited with the prospect of rough sex?! Hmph!"

-

Dusk fell on Ogrimaar quickly, the plains around the city giving way to mountains that took the land from bright afternoon to almost dark, far sooner than seemed right. And within the back alleys of the massive city, in the shadowed Drag, a form moved along the rooftops.

Barely visible against the darkening sky, his motions were part way between predator running through the forest and dancer moving across a stage. Wan light brushed across a strong lined, sharp angled face, one that had been compared to that of a devil by both compliment and insult. His eyes, dark emeralds given both light and malice, shone through narrowed almond shaped lids. While not given the broad muscled build of an orc or even a Blood Knight, as the Sin'dorei leaped from a high rooftop to catch a spike shaped ornament of the next building and use it to twist himself smoothly to the roof of a tradesman's building, his strength and balance were obvious.

Sliding into the lengthening shadows, the glow of his eyes vanished , and the rogue slid down the shadowed side of the building with the ease of a hunting spider. Below him five other members of the Horde walked slowly, the leader a troll encased in fel iron plate who held a small stone that pulsed with a pale blue light on one edge. They moved carefully, obviously following the glow, and just as obvious to the predator above them, paying attention to little else.

Rotating his limber body, the Sin'dorei stood on the narrow windowsill of the jeweler's workshop and looked inside. A wide smile lifted the corners of his sharply handsome face. The crimson haired blood elf reached into a small pocket on the sleeve of his tight midnight blue leather armor and withdrew a small purple stone.

“Bruj'zu, still in the Hall of Valor?” He whispered, his voice smooth as velvet, and with quiet danger of poisoned sweet wine.

“Yah mahn.” Drawled the deep voice of the rogue's troll companion. “Joo find de wahn we be lookin' fahr Asithyl?”

“Not quite.” Said the pale skinned elven man, looking over the edge of the window to the group and crouching in preparation to follow them once more. “But just as good.”

Minutes later the dark green troll, dressed in armor made from netherdrake scales and nerubian chitin, stood on a corner of an alley leading to the narrow and deserted street, the five younger Horde adventurers still keeping their methodical tunnel visioned pace. He watched the group carefully assessing them with a hunter's eye. The Tauren was likely a shaman, the blood elf in the group most probably a mage, the orcs were both hunters and the troll in his plate armor, most certainly a warrior. Bruj'zu shook his head, the rows of tightly braided purple hair swaying.

“Aye's don' know 'bout dis. Ii' no feel righ'.”

“No, getting mind controlled by a night elf priestess, while she tells you about how delicious her sister tastes, and how much she loves her four children, for half a week, to be used as her personal joy toys as a method of making her husband mad? That didn't feel right. This? This is fine.” A vague, almost drugged grin took over the forest hued troll's face.

“Ii' wa' ony' tree day' ya? An' joo didna' seem tas mind when yas were fookin' dem bi' ol' nigh' elf-”

“I get the point Bruj'zu!” Growled the Sin'dorei rogue, even as visions of the curvaceous, silver haired Kal'dorei flitted through his mind. “Still felt violated afterwards.”

“Whaatevah. Dey's spent goo' gold on getting' dat spell ta find her. Why we gonna take ii' from dem? Dis girl, she share wi' ahs no problem," the troll retorted. Not taking his measured and appraising stare from the group, the blood elf answered quietly but firmly.

“Let me put it in two ways. One, if they were so concerned about not losing their chance they should have been more careful. And second there are five of them correct?” Looking slightly confused, the troll fed a piece of raptor meat to his massive snow white owl perched around the corner and nodded. “Do you want to be number six or seven after the tauren?”

Bruj'zu considered this for a moment then pulled out a vial of sleeping poison. “Ahs should star' wi' de shaman den?”

Asithyl nodded and vanished into the shadows.

-

“We be close fellahs.” The leader of the group said over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the pulse of the stone. “She no' be fa'.”

All of them were returning from an extended duty in the Outlands where, instead of front line combat they found themselves assigned to the important, but ultimately boring, task of guarding supply caravans. Six months of dirty, unrewarding, and lonely duty had left them eager for any entertainment they could find. The blood elf huntress' challenge in Silvermoon had seemed perfect for all of them.

So absorbed were they in the goal that when the massive framed tauren shaman grunted slightly in pain, it was only the blood elf next to him that noticed that the huge hunter stopped, wobbled, and slowly sank to his knees, then face. As the Sin'dorei mage brushed his long black hair out of his face and opened his mouth to sound an alarm, a dark blur shot from a darkened alley, slammed a forearm across the mage's neck, and dragged the stunned blood elf to an opposite side street.

The orc hunters stopped, their senses finally kicking in, and both turned to see one companion gone, and the other crumpled over in a heap. They looked around the street in panic, one pulling a long barreled goblin rifle from his back while the other reached for his bow. Neither really got the chance. The crossbow bolt's fletching were made from shed owl wing feather, ruffled along the edges and totally silent. The one that cracked the gun wielding orc dead center in the forehead was, fortunately for the Hunter, blunt, a steel knob meant for concussion. Something the orc in question was going to wake up with as he flipped completely over, the back of his head cracking against the ground.

Even as he brother turned instinctively toward the fallen hunter, the remaining orc caught a shadow moving in the corner of his vision, and felt steel, cold, unyielding, and rounded, pressed under his thick jaw and biting into the artery feeding his brain. The Hunter felt his arm raised, trapped in a useless position by a figure at his back now, then the world twisted as his head and neck were cranked to the side, his free arm planting instinctively against the street to keep himself upright.

Asithyl slammed a booted heel onto the orc hunter's hand, trapping the unfortunate male, using a sheathed dagger to choke his competitor unconscious. The rogue looked up from his prey and grinned at the troll warrior, the expression of a predator's satisfaction. Now alone the warrior hesitated for a brief moment, debating on whether to drop the stone or take the time to store the expensive item.

A flash of white and Bruj'zu's owl decided it for him, snatching the glowing stone away and hovering at the mouth of the alley where the troll hunter lazily strolled out, extending his three fingered hand to catch the luminescent item in his left hand. Despite the size of the green, thorned crossbow, the black dreadlocked troll pointed it easily at the warrior with one hand.

“Tanks' ta yas' bruddah'” Bruj'zu drawled laconically. “Bu' yas' los' dis time, ruun 'long now.”

By now the orc's struggles ceased and the huge form went limp. The crimson haired elf dropped the chainmail coated body to the ground unceremoniously, his smile settling down to a confident smirk. The expression drove the troll warrior mad. With a feral growl the blue skinned jungle troll pulled two axes from his belt, and before he could even set himself to charge the other troll the warrior was lifting his arms, covering his face as the ghostly form of the owl raked claws at his eyes.

Before the less experienced troll could recover from the surprise, Asithyl was on him. The rogue snapped a low shin kick to the back of the warrior's knee, while clearing one of the troll's arms away with his right hand, and hammering the pommel of his dagger square between the eyes of the astonished warrior.

The blue skinned troll dropped bonelessly to the ground in a heap. Bruj'zu shook his head almost sadly and slung his crossbow over his backand loped casually towards the rogue, while tossing his faithful owl a piece of nether ray. The crimson haired elf shrugged at his partner then smirked. Both males saw the stone in Bruj'zu's hand had begun to pulse quickly, its glow intense.

“She be close mon.” The Hunter said with a toothy grin. “Les' go hun' oura lil' buuny. Ge' oura' prize.”

His emerald gaze flashing with amusement, the rogue was gone from sight.

-

Kelayna pressed herself against the wall of an alley, heart pounding in her chest, the leather of her armor heaving with short rapid breaths. And she hadn't even been running, the dark haired elf had merely been watching. Never had the Huntress ever imagined her little game would result in this. She was being fought over! Fought for! For what she would give to anyone who could catch her.

The realization sent a sensation through her artfully curved body. One more intense than the first time she had drained mana. It was tingling and running from her hair, down to her palms and feet, thrilling the young blood elf, making her breath fast, her heart race. It made her nipples press against her top, making them feel constrained; between her legs Kela felt the first droplets of her arousal forming at the sight of men willing to do violence so they could catch her.

Suddenly the young elf woman felt a presence close, pushing away from the wall she spun to her left to see the hunched over form of the troll, tossing one of her stones in the air smiling around short, up turned tusks.

“Where joo gowan'?” Said Bruj'zu slowly advancing towards the Sin'dorei woman. “Joo na' gowan tas ruun are yas? Yas need be keepin' yas streng' fa' more foon tings den da'.”

Unable to resist touching her tongue to her lips, Kelayna stepped away, keeping the distance the same between the two. With an impish grin the blood elf tilted her body down just a bit, just enough to let the troll glimpse cleavage. “You haven't caught me yet, the hunt isn't over mighty hunter.” She teased, her voice sultry with desire even as her lithe body tensed, ready to sprint away.

“Yes it is.” Whispered a voice that was a mix of velvet and stiletto daggers into her ear. Before she could move a midnight blue wrapped arm went around her elbows, pinning her to the warm chest of another Sin'dorei. The rogue's other arm wrapped tightly around her shoulder, pressing a soft silk cloth that smelled of lilacs and honey over her nose and mouth. The moment she gasped in the tempting odor, Kelayna's eyes watered and rolled upwards, her eyelids growing heavier and heavier.

“Shhhhh.” Soothed Asithyl, gently kissing the huntress' sensitive ear. “Just a nap before we play."

Despite knowing there was nothing she could against men such as this Kela tried to fight, tried to struggle free. It was not to be, especially when the troll stepped forward and cupped her sex through her tight leather breeches, sending a confused rush of pleasure through the already aroused huntress, as well as another gasp of the sweet poison held to her face. Fel fire lit eyes closed, and Kela felt her self fall into a warm, deep sleep.

-

She awoke to find herself seemingly floating, the sensation almost comforting save for the pressure around her breasts, thighs, and hands. Startled, her fel green eyes snapped wide and looked down, the motion making her rock gently in the silk rope cradle.

Kelayna drew a short, sharp gasp of surprise as she realized her situation; black silk rope wound its way across her body in a diamond knotted pattern, wrapped around her deliciously curved chest to push them out further, and support most of her slim form from ropes tied around her back, to a rafter above. More soft cording bound her hands to loops stretched tight from ceiling to floor, oddly leaving her wrists and elbows exposed. The pattern stayed the same at her mid thigh, calf and ankle. The rope winding across her body had been almost artfully wound between her legs. Gently, but firmly, pulling open the folds of her smooth sex.

She felt fingers brush through her hair and down to the delicate curve of her neck and she looked up into the wickedly handsome face of a dark tanned Sin'dori, his long crimson hair loose and falling past his sharp angled cheeks. He bent to kiss Kelayna, the huntress too surprised, confused, and aroused, to resist the gentle but demanding embrace of his lips on hers, and found his tongue slipping in to find hers.

Kelayna moaned into the other blood elf's mouth, delighting in the taste of the confident rogue, relishing his soft gloved hand as it stroked through her hair, across the back of her neck, and tickled down her spine, and finally back up to her hair. Supporting her head slightly the red haired Sin'dorei intensified the kiss, drawing another sighing cry from her lips that sent a pleasurable surge through his toned body. Without warning the other elf's grip on her hair tightened and she was screaming into his mouth in surprise as he ran the flat of an ice cold dagger up her back.

As Kelayna's cries lessened, her body adjusting to the change in sensation, the male withdrew both the blade and his mouth, slowly suckling her bottom lips as he stood. Smiling at the Huntress' soft whimper the rogue slid away from Kela, nodding off to her side. With a predatory lope, the troll Hunter strolled into view and the Sin'dorei woman got a view of her captors and playmates.

Adventurers in general never had much body fat, few and far between was one with a lush figure and these two were no exception, a fact obvious as both were nude save for the blood elf and his silk gloves. Their bodies were lanky, but rippled with a predator's muscle, enough for speed and strength but not enough to slow them down. The troll's dark green skin heightened the definition of his muscles, and though the troll moved smoothly, he couldn't match the serpentine grace the blood elf rogue had, the interplay of his stomach and thigh muscles bringing Kela's gaze to their free hanging shafts.

The huntress breathed a ragged sigh as she saw that both were already growing longer, thicker at the sight of her aroused body. The Sin'dorei male's fel-shining eyes drank the sight of the suspended woman in greedily.

“I am Asithyl Mourningblade, m'lady. You are ours, rightfully won by your own rules.” His grin was lopsided and devilish. “Now to enjoy you.”

“Aye's be Bruj'zu.” The troll said, approaching the suspended Huntress, letting a long strip of black cloth fall from his hands. “An' joo, joo be a fahn' prize. Bu' we gon' make dis' a lil moar foon.”

With that the troll wrapped the silk around the young elf's eyes, tucking the blindfold under her long dark hair. When he was finished, Buj'zu traced the blood elf's artist fine features, his rough fingers drawing a gasp from the huntress as he traced her lips, her quickened breath turning into a content purr as his hands moved down her neck, tracing her collarbone, then further down her torso to cup the swell of her breasts. Giving no warning the green skinned troll pressed his upturned tusks against the graceful curve of her neck and lapped at her sensitive flesh hungrily, eliciting another startled and pleasured gasp from the tan skinned woman.

Blind, Kelayna's other senses went into overdrive, she could taste the memory of the blood elf's lips, smell the rain forest scent of the troll as he stroked one hand down her arm lightly brushing over the tender skin at the inside of her elbow and wrist, tracing the soft lines in her palm, then contradictorily squeezing and rolling the Sin'dorei's tumescent nipple, just over the line of comfort, the pin pricks of pain adding to the sensual barrage Kelayna was under.

One made all the more intense when the rogue blew a long, cool breath over the chocolate haired huntress' pussy lips. The male blood elf's fingertips traced long strokes from the soles of Kelayna's dainty feet under her shapely calves and knees to the insides of her curved thighs, drawing the trails again and again, each repetition faster, and ending closer to the Sin'dorei's sex. Though they were merely teasing her, Kelayna twisted and writhed against the silk ropes, moaning and panting. While the huntress had nothing against a fast and hard fuck, a session of intense foreplay like this was a welcome change of pace.

Then, it stopped. Both males withdrew without warning or word, leaving the Sin'dorei woman whimpering and desperately trying to bring her thighs together, touch her nipples, anything to keep the slow, powerful sensations rolling through her body.

Kelayna gasped and froze as she felt six strips of soft supple leather brush over her shoulder and her collarbone, interrupted only by the silk bindings that held her aloft. Knowledge what those, for the moment, gentle touches were made her shiver; but the feeling of six more, drifting across the hard peaks of her nipples, then down, across the tender skin of her stomach, then swaying, lightly tapping from the inside of one thigh to the other, made the dark haired Sin'dorei moan softly.

“Joo know wha' dese be, don' yas?” Rumbled the troll's voice from the legs of the sightless elven woman. At her head the first flogger traced a feather light, serpentine path across her chest, almost tickling were it not for how aroused she was. His lips brushing her sensitive ear the elven rogue's voice was whisper made thunderous from how close he was.

“And you know what they can feel like.” The Blood Elf's traced a silk gloved hand over her ear and across the nape of the bound woman's neck, eliciting a pleasured mew from the woman.

“Wha' joo don' know,” Came the troll's voice again as he traced her arched leg, letting the supple leather caress even the soles of the huntress' feet. “Ii' if we gonn' be genle'.”

With no warning but a snap of air, Bruj'zu cracked the flogger across the woman's rounded ass, leaving long red marks, but not quite breaking the skin. “Or shall we be rough?” He purred into her other ear, his bare chest pressed against her now heaving shoulder.

Kela's breath caught in throat with a mix of fear and surprise when suddenly two sharp points were pressed against the insides of her thighs, just above her hips. In her hazy mix of desire, fear, and anticipation the thought penetrated that it was the troll's tusks. She felt him blow a long cool breath across the swollen, inflamed surface of her dewy sex, then inhale deeply.

The troll shifted his face away from her wanting pussy, hunger in his voice. “She be smellin' good mohn!”

The huntress gave a short cry as silk covered fingers glided over the lips of her cunt, teasingly avoiding her hardened clit. As her moaning sighs grew more rhythmic the Sin'dorei pulled his hand away and she heard him lewdly suck her honey from the glove. “And she tastes of fear and desire both.”

Though the blindfold didn't move Kelayna could see the malicious grin on the elf's wickedly handsome face clearly in her mind. “Wouldn't do to keep the lady waiting, would it my friend! Let's give her what she desires.”

They were barely slaps at first. The impact of the wide strips of leather were if anything gentle, teasing, starting at her legs and arms working across her stomach, shoulders, then hips. She didn't know which one started hitting her harder, only that the impact of leather against flesh was faster, more pronounced, the smacking louder, though they still were teasing her in a way, pulling the straps back adder quick before the tips could mar her skin. Kelayna's moans were loud, mixed with pain, pleasure, fear, and excitement as the leather slapped across her body, leaving wide swaths of red skin.

And then the first blow slapped across her desperately aching nipples, breasts already sensitive from the pressure of the rope. A blast of pain and pleasure sent the blindfolded Huntress writhing, twisting and shaking, lips parted trying to scream but unable to get a full breath as the blows continued to slap her lithe form. Even as tears formed in the corner of her emerald glowing eyes Kelayna felt droplets of her honey shake loose from her cunt to spatter the wood floor.

And then both men, acting in an almost fiendish concert sandwiched her previously untouched pussy, with one flogger, while the other swung up to crack across her ass. As the leather impacted the huntress' tender flesh, sending a shockwave through her sex, for a split second of pure blissful agony slapping against her throbbing clit, Kela went rigid, a lightning bolt of sensation arcing up her spine, fingers and toes outstretched, as unimaginably the Sin'dorei came in a stormy, almost liquid mix of agony and ecstasy.

Even before the full aftershocks of her release were fully over, the dark haired Huntress felt the floggers hit the ground, and the men were upon her. Hands stroking over her skin, soft silk and rough troll sending her body twisting and quivering, uncontrolled again. With little pretense Asithyl slid two gloved fingers into the elven woman's sopping pussy, curving and undulating against her slick, hot channel. Kelayna went rigid, freezing, then relaxing, panting, rocking her hips back on to the rogue's fingers. Her breath caught short in her throat when the male's thumb slid along her soaked petals, then unceremoniously pushing deep within the elf woman's ass.

The mix of sensation a true maelstrom now, Kela tossed her head back and forth, whipping her soft hair against the trolls thighs as he mauled her painfully sensitive breasts. They worked her, playign her curved body like an instrument, tongue flicking over random spots of her sweat slick skin. Then, with no warning, Kelayna shrieked, a confused mass of emotion and sensation. At one nipple and her overstimulated clit, now lay icily enchanted blades.

Still Asithyl's fingers pumped in and out of her clenching womb, Bruj'zu's hand pulled and twisted a nipple so swollen the Sin'dorei woman knew it would be purple. Still they assaulted her with a barrage of pain and pleasure, adding cold to the mix causing her breathing to shorten, only panting gasps able to get through. Yet still she was able to softly whisper.

“Too...AH! ...tooo... oh, OH! ..much!” She pleaded, feeling a confused light headed tensing of her body already starting to form at the base of her spine.

“Too much?” Questioned Asithyl, his breath brushing past the dripping folds of her pussy, his hand pausing deep within her sex and ass. Kela moaned, feeling her world spin though she saw only black.

“Tooa' bahd.” Rumbled Bruj'zu, and switched the blade from one nipple to the other, this time vibrating the blade against the tumescent nub. The blood elf rogue grinned wickedly added his ring finger to the Huntress' tightening anal passage, and rocked his hand back and forth, rotating the chill bladed over the blood elf woman's clit.

“AH!” Kelayna got out a single short cry, then her throat clenched up, tightening around a long keening moan as a trembling orgasm wracked her lithe form. Only then did the rogue and hunter slow down their attentions, but only slowing, still grinding, filling, keeping her twisting and gasping, cumming and cumming and....

The blindfold made it difficult to determine exactly when but at some point Kela's cries of pleasured torment trailed off and for a moment she went limp, asleep on a sea of erotic pain and rapture.

  
-

  
Of all the ways she remembered waking up, the sensation of lips gently kissing her stomach, of hands stroking feather light over her face and through her hair, was one of the most pleasant. A slow burning thrill made all the more pleasurable by Asithyl's now bare hand tracing one side of her still wet sex, down just brush the rim of her anus, then back up the other side.

After the third orbit Kelayna couldn't restrain a gasping mewl of pleasure. A sound greeted by her captor-lovers chuckling deeply.

“She wakes! Well my friend, do you mind if I have her first?” The other blood elf spoke as though she were a toy to be used, and despite the heat such words brought to her cheeks and the tips of her ears, the chocolate haired huntress felt a tingle run from the palms of her hands to the soles of her feet as it was enforced upon her how powerless she was in their hands.

Heaving a deep, and faked, sigh, Bruj'zu traced Kela's full, parted lips. Licking his own in anticipation the troll nodded at the crimson haired elf male without moving his gaze from the blindfolded Sin'dorei's face. The wicked, cocked grin tugging at the corners of his mouth once more, Asithyl stood up between Kela's curved, bound legs, stroking his already stiffening cock to full size.

The hot shaft of elf-flesh ground firmly against Kela's folds, parting them, the head of his cock pressing against her clit. With a chuckling growl the flame haired elven man pushed down on his own member, increasing the pressure on the blood elf woman's button. Asithyl slowly rocked back and forth, each stroke sending shockwaves of pleasure through her toned body.

As the huntress moaned and gasped, her body tensing and thrashing helplessly against the bonds that held her tightly aloft, Kelayna felt the troll's rough three fingered hands slide over her delicate chest, cupping her breasts and trapping her hard, pale hyper-sensitive pink nipples between his fingers. With a feral grin the older hunter squeezed, pressure slowly increasing first to pleasure, then edged with pain, then a hurt that was so confused with ecstasy all the dark haired huntress could do was scream hoarsely, her voice a mix of agonized pleasure.

It was a cry neither male could resist. Still holding her ass tightly the rogue shoved his long shaft into the woman's clenching pussy, growling and groaning in his own pleasure. The troll, his dark skin shining with sweat found the angle and slid his wide cock into her mouth, hissing as he fucked her mouth, eyes rolling backwards as the helpless Sin'dorei moaned around his member.

Kelayna choked slightly on the troll's massive girth, her channel quivering and squeezing both as the rogue slowly and deeply drove inside her, and in anticipation for what was going to come next. Not that the elf was small, the Huntress reflected dreamily, rocking her hips into his controlled thrusts, shivering as his toned abdominal muscles slapped against her still sensitive clit, his sac doing the same against her taut bottom. Despite their feral lust both men were moving slow, gradually increasing their pace as her body once again grew accustomed to assault of pain tinged pleasure.

Leaning over the Sin'dorei woman's sweat glistening body to change the angle of his thrusts, the flexible rogue's muscles flexed and tensed as he pulled on Kela's hips harder, demanding more. His emerald eyes narrowed, Asithyl pressed his lips to the woman's sleek body, flicking his tongue over her sweat shining skin, relishing the salty-sweet skin. Not only did the elf's angled thrusts explore and stretch different areas of the blood elf woman's cunt that were normally left unattended, it allowed him to slide his hands around to her finely formed ass and spread the toned cheeks, tiny rivulets of the cocoa haired woman's honey dripping down the curves of her ass.

Kelayna inhaled sharply, as the rogue's fingers slid inward, massaging and caressing her anus, rubbing her own juices around the taut muscle. The quick breath caused her to gag slightly on the troll's mammoth weapon, the spasms massaging his cock even as her tongue circled and slid over it obediently, hungrily. Far quicker than he expected Bruj'zu felt his sac tighten, draw inwards, and let out a long grunting sigh as he flooded her mouth with salty seed. Though her throat was almost raw Kela embraced and relished the feeling of subservience, submitting so totally to the two men, swallowing the hunter's seed greedily, though his spasms afterward caused some of the sticky, hot cum to trickle from the corner of her mouth.

Bruj'zu withdrew from the wanton elf's suckling lips, his member still twitching, her silky mouth and tongue, along with his troll's constitution leaving him rigid and pulsing against her lips. His wicked grin returning, Asithyl flicked his eyes up to see his partner holding the Sin'dorei woman's head tightly as he ran his shaft over her questing mouth. With no other warning the red haired male pushed his fingers in, penetrating the huntress' ass, his digits slick with Kela's nectar.

With an inarticulate scream the sudden intrusion sent a wave of pleasure and pain through the voluptuous elf's body, her eyes wide behind the blindfold. Asithyl growled, his grin changing slightly as he sped up, slamming into her over and over, bracing her hips with his forearms, taking and using Kela roughly. Which was exactly what she wanted.

“Ahhh! Mmmm.. nnngggaaa... Master... pleaseeeee... pleea ... please...doooon'...” Whatever the dark haired huntress was going to say was lost as the troll shoved a think finger into her sweet mouth and slapped his shaft against a swollen nipple. Grinning around his upturned tusks Bruj'zu watched as the svelte huntress writhed, her hands flexing and gripping as she vainly tried to find more purchase, more stimulation.

The dark green skinned troll dropped to a knee, glanced at the hard rutting rogue and winked knowingly at him. With a deep breath in and out Asithyl slowed , pulling all the way from her clenching yet sodden cunt, and pushing all the way back in, grinding his well formed abdominal muscles against her at a tormented pace. As the young huntress whined around Bruj'zu's thick finger, her her body on the edge, but not given the last bit she needed The troll nuzzled his cheek against Kelayna's, drawing his long tongue across her hyper-sensitive ear. Pulling his finger from her mouth the hunter found the swell of her breast and squeezed, hard, at the same time pulling her hair, just hard enough to send a trill of pain down her spine.

“Joo wanna coom don' ya lil beetch?” Drawled Bruj'zu. “Joo wan' 'im ta fook yas 'ard an' rough-like, ya?”

Her abused chest rising and falling desperately, Kelayna whimpered, tried to nod and found she couldn't move. Bound body tense against the ropes, fingers flexed, hips held immobile by the strong rogue the Sin'dorei's mouth choked out lust soaked words.

“Pleeeeease... Liiuuuuuuiiight...please... let... let your whore cum! Fill my cunt... make this slut yours!” Kela wanted to scream her words of surrender, wanted to cry out with her desperate need. But her breath ragged and quick would barely let her gasp out those sounds.

However soft and choked her voice may have been, it was enough. His red hair flailing wildly, Asithyl growled deep and hammered back into her dripping pussy, fingers sliding deeper inside her, massaging the base of his own shaft as he pounded Kela's abused cunt. All too soon the rogue felt a tingle at the base of his spine, felt his member throb and pulse, jumping inside her hot silken channel. With a low groan the blood elf man erupted inside her pussy, bathing and flooding her sex with molten heat. His muscled body tensed, sweat glistening along the grooves of his defined body. Asithyl held himself inside her pussy, the tip of his shaft pushed firmly against the top of her womb.

“Fuuuuaaaahh.. ah ah YES, Fill... fuck... AH!” Kelayna felt her world go white even inside the blindfold, felt her body lost on a sea of liquid ecstasy, tingling shocks running from clit to toes to the very hair the elder hunter was so firmly pulling. Her climax left her dainty toes and aristocratic hands pointed and flexed, her thighs flexed as she tried to pull the male inside even more.

With a loud sigh the rogue relaxed and stumbled back, his member only partially softening, a trail of mixed fluid dripping from the young elven woman's swollen flower. Bruj'zu's mouth was open, panting slightly as he watched Kela's face though the orgasm. His sense keen, the hunter exulted in her breathless sounds, the scent of her sex coating his partner's groin and hips, the sight of her succulent mouth open and quivering with a wracking ecstasy that left her panting.

Almost tenderly the dark skinned troll lapped at her neck and stood, gently caressing her hair and breasts where he had left bruises moments before. Still hunched over Bruj'zu moved up to the Sin'dorei's graceful ear and Kela shivered as she felt his oversize teeth graze along the sides of it.

“Ii' be Aye's toorn nowah. Aye's gonna gonna foock all 'im outta ya, an' den ya's belon' to Aye.” Whispered the hunter, relishing the almost fearful, yet wanting, shiver that slid through Kelayna's body. Bruj'zu and stood and turned to face Asithyl sharing another conspiratorial wink with the still grinning rogue. The crimson haired blood elf slid soundlessly around the suspended huntress, scooping up the blue glowing daggers that had so pleased and tormented Kelayna earlier, and tossing one to Bruj'zu. The troll caught the blade effortlessly and the two males went to work on the ropes that bound the dark haired Sin'dorei's arms and legs.

Her arms and legs limp from both her powerful orgasm and the tightness of her previous bonds, Kela collapsed into the waiting arms of the two males, her body still tightly wrapped in black silk rope. They had worked so quickly that the young huntress could feel Asithyl's cum still slowly dripping from her swollen sex. Flipping the double edged blade to the ground Bruj'zu ran his hands over over the luscious curve of Kelayna's breast, down her delicate sides and to her curved hips, grasping them he glanced to his Sin'dorei partner. The crooked, incorrigible grin lit up the rogue's face and he nodded.

Flipping his long coppery hair over his toned shoulder, Asithyl grasped the young hunterss' shoulders and the two males flipped the dark haired over to her knee, though the massive hands of the troll still supported most of her weight. The rogue snuggled against the cocoa haired woman's delicate jaw line and left and fastened his lips to her neck, sucking hard, grazing teeth against her skin, drawing a cooing gasp from Kelayna's quivering mouth. A gasp that turned into a sharp moan as Bruj'zu's rough hand found her clit and pressed inward, just passing pain, making the toned woman shake, her breasts bouncing against the restraining rope.

“Such a pretty whore...” The handsome Sin'dorei whispered, his lips against Kela's ear. “Such a beautiful, dirty, slutty girl. You've left a mess upon me, you should clean it.”

“Ah! Yessss...Master please let me clean you...” The young huntress gasped, her hips grinding against the troll's hand, feeling his massive shaft slide between her ass cheeks, her svelte form shaking with anticipation. Asithyl nibbled her ear delicately, intimately, before whispering again.

“Good slut, no matter what, don't stop pretty little whore.” Contradicting his lewd words with gentle, teasing caress' over the satiny skin of Kela's breasts, neck and face, the Sin'dorei male stood, coaxing the voluptuous elven girl to follow him up. Still blindfolded, the wanton huntress mewed in pleasure, a soft expression that faded into a hungry purr as she felt the firm, burning skin of his cock brush her curved lips. Kela reached up to hold him but Bruj'zu grabbed her wrists and pulled them behind her back, restraining her easily with one hand while the other massaged and teased her hard button.

“Dinna' say foor joo tas do dat lil beetch.” Growled the hunter. “Joo be usin ya's mouth onlae. An' be na' movin' if joo wan' moor.”

Adding to the psychological torment Kela craved, the massive framed troll shifted and nestled his throbbing member between the sopping folds of her pussy, still parted by the ropes on either side, and began to rock back and forth, teasing her. His girth already parting her folds, promising pleasure and pain, the blood elf whimpered, but obediently began lapping at the base of Asithyl's shaft, rubbing her cheek against the rapidly hardening cock. Knowledge of the wetness she was tasting, that it was her own arousal as well as his seed drew a fresh flood of juice from the voluptuous woman's sodden nethers, making the troll hunter's weapon glide smoothly over her puffy labia. The rogue stroked his hands through her hair almost lovingly, then tightening his grip, pulling her hair enough to cause Kelayna to gasp before relaxing again.

“That's it...” The blood elf man said in a low, silken voice. “Good girl, good whore.”

“Masters...” Kelayna whimpered, her hips shaking with restraint as she forced her body to not grind against the huge cock so close to entering her. She alternated panting words against the rogue's cock with teasing flick of her skilled tongue. “...p-please.. Masters.. I...ah! I beg you... please!”

“Wha'choo wan'?” Grinned the troll,spreading the lips of her cunt, his hard pulsing shaft between the soft, sensitive, folds. Kela actually cried slightly, her abused body shivering with hunger and want, her blindfold growing as damp as her naked sex. “Joo wan' me ta fill yas?”

The hunter accentuated his lewd words with a slight thrust, the tip of his massive cock edging inside her pussy, then just as quickly withdrawing. The dusky haired Sin'dorei cried out plaintively.

“AHH! Please! Master! Please...” Kelayna begged, her voice whimpering off quietly, still vibrating against Asithyl's cock.

“Joo wan me tas fook yas?” Another short thrust, this time a hint deeper drawing an even louder cry from the young elf, her body writhing in their grasp.

“Oh, pleeeeeeeease! Fuck me, fuck your slut, your slave, your whore! Please Masters fuck me!”

Fully erect now, relishing the wanton expression, the desire parted lips, the bounce of her tightly bound breasts, the coppery haired rogue traced Kelayna's full lips, her jawline, then to her delicate throat. Asithyl's wicked grin took an even more sinister, devilish slant.

“Such sweet words you whore. Now, give your hunter his prize...” His voice dipped, low and feral. “Ask him, no, BEG him to rape you, to take you hard.”

So close to what she wanted and needed, Kela would have agreed to almost anything, so lost was she to her lust. With a final grateful lick along the Sin'dorei's shaft the blood elf woman breathlessly obeyed. “Master, please...please fuck me, rape me hard! Take this slut, rape her however you wish!”

His prey's submission complete, Bruj'zu pulled back on her shapely hips, and thrust forward with his considerable strength, ramming his monstrous cock into her silky, clenching pussy. Kelayna's scream was long and loud, cut off when the powerfully built troll pulled almost completely out and slammed back in, ecstasy and agony ripping through her curvy form, flashes of light dancing behind her eyelids and the darkness of the blindfold.

Tenderly cupping the young elf woman's artist fine face Asithyl's own mouth opened and closed with deep satisfied breaths as he watched Kela get fucked viciously hard. He knew her screams were part pain and mostly pleasure and devoured that knowledge. His cock bounced against her full, swollen breasts as she was thrust upward in time with the troll's forceful rutting.

She was lost, there was nothing beyond the sensation of the huge shaft inside her, stretching her abused cunt, filling her womb to the deepest reaches. Kela wanted to give in even more, to tell her masters how grateful she was, how much pleasure they forced upon her, but her lungs would not obey, her voice came out in only hoarse, whispery cries of pain tinged delectation. Then the blood elf rogue's fingers found her nipples and pinched down, just as hard and rough as Bruj'zu animal fucking was.

The huntress froze, body rigid then her thighs, previously limp and placid against the troll's assault, clamped down, holding him inside her satiny, clenching, pulsing channel. Kela writhed, head twisting side to side uncontrollably, soft hair whipping wildly as the orgasm filed and spread through her young body. With a final gasping moan she relaxed, falling back against the troll's broad chest limply. His long tongue flicked out to caress the tip of her dainty ear.

“Joo's a goo' lil' whore, pretty wahn.” Bruj'zu growled. “An' joo feel good. Bu' Aye wan' sumtain' moar...”

With no more preamble, the hunter pulled his hips back, pushing up on Kelayna's hips. The lovingly abused huntress whimpered as his massive shaft pulled from her clinging sex. That quiet whimper turned into a breathless scream as the tip of his huge cock pushed forcefully into her anus. Bruj'zu slowly stroked back and forth in her tightly puckered ass, the Sin'dorei's own nectar providing just enough wetness for his mammoth weapon to pierce her without tearing. Tears again sprung to Kela's eyes, of both relief and pain, her body twisting and turning, trying at once to pull away from the rough fucking and impale herself more deeply onto the hunter's cock.

Bruj'zu released the young elf's hands and pulled back on the ropes that still bound her svelte body, rocking slowly but powerfully in and out of her ass. Nuzzling his face against her neck the hunter growled and grunted, his voice as animal as his forceful fucking of her anal passage.

Then the troll stood up. Kela screamed again, her dulcet voice now raspy with her continuous vocalizations of wanton lust. Her body feeling full, almost to bursting as her body weight flattened her finely shaped rump against his hard abdominal muscles, his long, thick cock pushing into her just a fraction deeper. Then hands were catching Kelayna's flailing arms wrapping them around the toned, finely sculpted shoulders of the Sin'dorei rogue.

“Shh.” Soothed Asithly warmly, lips again touching her over stimulated ear. Sobbing in pleasure and pain, her dainty feet barely touching the ground, the cocoa haired young elf clutched the burning hot body of the other blood elf to her own chest, felt her nipples press against his own, his hands stroking and caressing her sides. “Relax, you know you wanted this, you precious, delicious little flower.”

Such pretty words, in stark contrast to the rough, almost violent thrusts into her ass made Kela shudder, her mind whirling with confused sensation.

“Joo know wha' else yas wan', pretty lil' whore?” Bruj'zu growled. “Joo wan' sumtin' in da slutty pussy ah yas!”

Her breath caught in her chest, the huntress felt, despite the sensual storm she was already in, a shiver of deletable anticipation run through her body. Kela nodded and let her head loll onto the rogue's shoulder. Weakly, still shaking from the slow, shallow rhythm of the troll hunter's thrusts, the voluptuous young elf kissed her way up Asithyl's straining neck to his ear.

“Please...” Whispered pleading, throaty, husky with desire caressed the rogue's ear. “Fuck your prey's cunt, take this slutty whore, rape her...”

Kelayna trailed off into a whimpering cry of ecstasy as Bruj'zu sped his rutting slightly. Asithyl had thus far been the more controlled of the pair, teasingly delicate before imposing his will on her satin soft body.

Not this time.

Stabilizing Kela's hips with one hand, the crimson haired blood elf guided the head of his cock to her dripping pussy, and rammed himself to the hilt. Though she had only minutes before been spread and stretched by Bruj'zu huge phallus, the troll's presence, hot, throbbing, and filling her ass made the huntress' sodden, abused sex clamp down on the rogue's shaft. She felt her clit once again vibrating from the force of the blood elf's impassioned fucking, felt her conscious mind sliding away, replaced only by feelings, sensations. She was full, pain and pleasure all one; feeling dirty, whorish, a slave yet free, another, explosive climax building, like waves against a dam, the pressure increased.

“Fookin' whore'...” The troll's voice in her ear, his voice now shaky, his body trembling against her back, inside her ass.

“Beautiful, precious slut...” Gentle kisses hot along her neck and ear, she returned them with soft cries against his pale skin as he fucked her cunt faster and faster.

Their words, rough in one ear, softly sweet in the other were degrading, humiliating, she craved them, each sound drawing a quiet moan, a husky cry from her quivering lips.

“Yes...” Kelayna trailed off gasping and writhing between the two men, her nails biting into the rogue's back, her hips rotating and shimmying around the hard cocks inside her. “This slut is all yours, all your Masters. Please... don't hold back! Fill your whore, your fuck toy with your seed! She begs you!”

For a frozen moment they both paused, drawing an whining, plaintive whimper from the huntress. One that turned into a short gasp as they began to pound into her, pussy and ass filled, pulsing, throbbing, yielding and tightening.

With a groaning howl the troll, his dark body glimmering with sweat, lost control first, his massive shaft jumping and expanding inside her ass, filling the young elf with hot seed, slickening his still thrusting cock, sending even more thrills through her. The dusky haired huntress followed quickly, the feeling of fullness, completed by the troll's gift of his cum caused the pressure to explode within her curved body, making her shake and writhe, each wild thrust by the troll and elf ripping a short cry from her coarse throat.

Kelayna's voice and shaking, spasming body sent Asithyl beyond his self control and with a soft growl into the hollow of the woman's throat he came again, unaccountably more than the first time, flooding her womb with heat, rivulets of their mixed climax flowing down his throbbing shaft. For as long as they could manage both males held the delectable huntress between them, hips and cocks still pumping within her swollen, tender passages, drawing her orgasm out longer than she would have ever thought possible.

And when they sank to the cool floor Kelayna was limp between them the troll unbinding her blindfold finally, revealing fel-fire green eyes half closed and distant, staring at nothing, aware of the heat of both men, of their shafts ever so slowly softening with her, of her droplets of honey and seed trailing down the inside of her shapely, nerveless thighs.

“Shhhhh” Soothed Asithyl, stroking her hair tenderly, and for once, the exhausted huntress thought he meant it. “Such a good pet.”

“We's gonna hun' joo 'gain soom tahym.” Rumbled the troll. “Joo be ourwah favorie' kindo' prey.”

The thought of these males, finding her, having their way with her all over again sent a slow, lasting shiver through Keylana's body that lasted as she let herself slide into a warm hazy drowse.

-

As the troll hunter covered the sleeping young woman with a blanket made of the finest Ashenvale silk, Asithyl finished the final touches on his own gift. Bruj'zu stood, stretching and turning away from the curvy blood elf just as the rogue knelt with liquid smoothness next to her. Opening Kela's hand gently the glowing eyed Sin'dorei dropped two tiny charms into her palm. One was a ruby fox, the other a moon-pearl owl, both exquisitely detailed, down to showing feathers and fur, both made into earrings.

The rogue stood, his devilish grin returning. Collars could be broken, marks healed, chains slipped, even the earrings small and unobtrusive as they were, could be removed if one of her hunters was feeling especially covetous. But the act of giving them, of leaving the tokens... it would leave a far harder chain to slip in the young elf's mind and heart. That would last far longer than any physical remembrance.

Asithyl winked a fel green eye at the sleeping woman and then followed his partner out of the room.


	8. Terokkar Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you know what I miss? Entertainment. Ah, you might wonder how a book like me would know anything of the sort, but I've traded hands many times in my long life. There's nothing like the thrill of danger to add a little more to a particularly spicy interaction, but you wouldn't know that just yet would you?. That will have to be remedied.”
> 
> The book flips through pages once again, reversing as if having passed the page it desired. It stops on one, the gilded ink flaring along the page before settling quietly.
> 
> "I once was in the possession of a man who roamed with a well-known entertainment group. You may know them, but that's neither here nor there. I was fortunate in that this man never let me out of his sight, and I was witness to a delightful act of blade-throwing that was thick with tension and fear. Like always, it's more fun to see what comes on later.
> 
> In my case, my owner was completely sloshed and knifed when he wasn't looking. I was left in the bedroom, as his coin and armor were deemed far more valuable than some musty old book, and was privy to a particularly intense moment of play that involved those same knives, rope, a little wax, and just the right amount of 'oomph' to turn my pages!”

Music flowed in the wilds of Terokkar Forest, drowning out the growls of predators and cries of birds through the treetops. Sunlight filtered through the trees to bathe the land in a shade of clover lit with gold, the final strong light that would fall on the forest as the sun started to set. Laughter mingled with the tune, from the childish joy of the young to the old and weary. Not far from the walls of Shattrath City, the festive tents of the Darkmoon Faire had been set up, offering color to the endless green and gray of the woods.  
  
The scent of food and animals wound through the area, enticing the countless people of every race who flooded the stalls and stages. The strongman lifted benches filled with amazed patrons, the tamer set his sleek panthers and lions through their paces under the watchful eyes of those who were expecting the worse, and children raced mechanical contraptions through the crowds while dodging the attacks of other toys. All who were present were having fun, save for one slender figure.  
  
Araelyra Solarfare was that single person among the masses, her arms folded over her modest chest in a gesture of annoyance that matched the stern expression on her exotic elven features. Her eyes watched the crowd, unpierced ears twitching slightly under the assault of sound that hadn't ceased since she had come close to the foolish spectacle of debauchery before her.  
  
“Are you sure you won't try, just once?” Her companion looked up at her, seated crosslegged opposite a hunched and ragged gnoll that claimed to see the future in a silly glass ball. The dark-skinned, raven-haired girl was the picture of fanatical youth, easily caught up in the activities in the Faire and opening her purse for anything that might catch her fancy. At the disinterested flick of fingers that Araelyra threw in her direction, she frowned but turned back to listen to the mystic speak.  
  
Once more, the pale-skinned mage let her eyes wander over the others. Nothing truly surprised her, nothing caught her attention as it did Rosavyn's. Most complained that Araelyra was a stick in the mud, never seeking the fun and adventure that was just over the next hill and letting herself become little more than a boring lecturer in training. Watching a drunken troll stagger by with his arms around two large-breasted human women, she was reminded strongly of exactly why that was.  
  
Her full lips curled in a sneer, the threat plain in her flaring emerald eyes when one of the women turned her blue eyes on the Sin'dorei woman. The attention was gone in moments, only to be replaced by the all-encompassing delightful squeal of Rosavyn at her feet. In a fraction of a second, the rogue was up and speaking of her coming fortune, her leather-clad arm wrapping about one of Araelyra's own.  
  
Like always, the redhead simply nodded along, feigning interest while she was dragged to yet another stall. “Yes, I know. A windfall of gold is in your immediate future. Same as it always is.” Her back pressed against the frame of the stall while Rosavyn purchased yet another distasteful food item.  
  
“You should take that stick out of your ass once in a while, Arae.” The rogue smirked, nibbling lightly on the skewered bits of boar with an appreciative purr. “Mmm! Really, just get something. It's all my treat. A toy? A drink? We've been here for hours and you haven't touched a thing!”  
  
They watched a half-dressed gnome female waltz by, a draenei male crawling on his hands and knees behind her like a lovesick pup. “Perhaps because I have more decency in my little finger than the bulk of this entire foolish gathering.” The mage flinched as a minstrel drew near, his voice taking on a laughing tone as he sang.  
  
_“The lass I brought home was a prize,_  
with an alluring set of blue eyes!  
Her breasts, so well kept,  
were what I'd expect,  
But her penis was quite a surprise!”  
  
“Disgusting.” Araelyra's voice dipped in a dangerous growl, the bard cowering for a moment before Rosavyn intervened and pulled the simmering female away. “I'm begging you now. Let me go back to my books and parchment, and I'll let you go home tonight without any severe harm to your body, and not a single hair on your head charred to ash.”  
  
Rosavyn laughed, ignoring the scalding look from her friend while she guided the mage through the crowds. “No can do, Arae. Even your mentors are worried about your constant studying. You may be the most well-read student and fledgling arcanist in all of Silvermoon, but none of that will help you out in the real world. So,” they skirted a group of dancing female kaldorei, “I'm to keep you out all night. Past the midnight hour, you are free.”  
  
Her voice turned to a plea, her sigh audible even in the crowd. “For me, Arae? It's rare I get to spend time with you, even more so now than just a few years ago. What with your constant reading and my being sent to Abyss and back.” Rosavyn squeezed her friend's arm tightly for only a moment, adopting a perfect doe-eye expression. Araelyra sighed, throwing her head back as if begging for help from the heavens.  
  
“Fine. Fine! Let's just get this over with and done, so I might return to sanity and you to... whatever it is that you do in the time we aren't together.” The redhead sighed in defeat, exaggerated a bit more for some small attempt at humor, letting herself be dragged behind her friend.  
  
They passed more stalls, more dancing couples, and stopped twice to watch the slender form of some daredevil or another sail over their heads to land in the pond on the far side of the Faire. The sun had set well past the horizon by the time Araelyra began to plead for just a moment to sit down, and the strings of lamps had been lit before she was allowed that, and only because they had approached an attraction that Rosavyn had been waiting eagerly to see since they had arrived.  
  
Araelyra sank to the bench with a sigh of relief, lifting one foot to remove the slipper there and rub at the skin. She ignored the grin on Rosa's face as the rogue watched her, knowing all too well what was going through her head. Araelyra was 'too soft' in the eyes of her friend, and would never last a moment outside. She didn't think that a stupid carnival counted, but she grudgingly admitted that perhaps her friend had a point. Not out loud, at least. “So why this one?”  
  
“Knives!” Rosavyn's face fairly lit with her excitement. “Specifically, knife-throwing. This man is supposed to be the best at what he does, and he decided to make an appearance here at the Faire for some reason or another. It truly doesn't matter why, only that he is here.”  
  
“Remind me again when you began your endless fascination with the moronic?” She ducked the half-hearted backhand of her friend, a rare smile formed and then gone while she turned her attention back to her feet. “Alright, you watch your man do what he does. I'm going to focus on getting my feet to stop hurting.”  
  
Rosavyn smirked, catching hold of the back of Araelyra's head and turning it frontwards, where a male figure had just stepped into the midst of the benches. “You're going to want to watch every move he makes, I assure of it. If I'm wrong, you can leave right after. If not, then you buy the drinks.” The rogue released the crimson locks, trailing her leather clad fingers down the back of Araelyra's neck.  
  
The shiver that followed her touch had nothing to do with her fingers. Araelyra's eyes had spotted the mysterious object of Rosavyn's affections, and she had to admit seeing the reason. The man was tall, a full head and a half taller than herself, with a build that she had difficulty placing. He was not heavily muscled, like those who were commonly found in plate and holding weapons that weighed as much as a carthorse, yet his body held strength.   
  
It was none of that which caught her attention most. Of all the things that her body might have wanted most of him, and she shamefully confessed to herself that her body most certainly did want him, it was his eyes that caught her and trapped her firmly. The way he looked over the crowd and yet stopped for the span of heartbeats to look at her, and without moving his lips even once, seemed to smile and beckon her closer. Then he did speak, and the spell was broken. Araelyra released her breath so forcefully that Rosavyn glanced over at her and grinned.  
  
“Greetings, friends. I am honored to have been summoned to such a prestigious event, to showcase my meager talent.” The hanging lamps caught his skin and the oils that had been rubbed into it, giving him a faint glow as he prowled the circle. “I am afraid that I must ask a favor before I begin, for without this... I'm ashamed to say that I have no real basis on my talent at all. I need a volunteer... - ah! So eager!”   
  
Araelyra was not surprised when Rosavyn leapt to her feet, and thought that her friend was simply raising her hand higher than the others. It was habit for the girl to want to be noticed, so she was more than amused when the man's hand lifted and pointed to her, his hand flipping over slowly and gesturing for her with two fingers. “Go, Rosa...”   
  
“Not me. You! This will be good for you, he's the best! Don't be afraid!” Rosavyn grabbed the mage by the arm, pulling her along the bench and past others who quickly tucked their feet away so as not to be stepped on. To say that her approach to the stage was undignified would be accurate beyond words, but Araelyra had no words at all when Rosa released her and went back to the place they had been sitting.  
  
“Afraid?” His eyes were shielded by a fringe of sand blond hair that had been streaked lighter by the sun. “You should be.” The words were only for her, and he took her elbow in hand as he guided her to a wall that had been erected and painted in colors that Araelyra was sure that she would never recall past that night. “I can promise only that I am not deliberately trying to hurt you.” His grip left her, and yet she could still feel the cool grip of his words around her throat. Hands at her waist made her turn, and he gently backed her against the wall, sliding both hands up to lift her arms.  
  
Now she could see his eyes, glowing faintly green. They were focused on her, watching her closely while he chained one hand, and then the other, above her head and slightly outwards. “I would take great care not to summon even the smallest amount of defense. These are made to hold people with power you could only hope to dream of.” Her anger flared, lips pulled in a slight snarl. The man merely smirked, turning away from her and making his way back to the center of the cleared area they had prepared.  
  
“This is quite simple. Well, for my lovely assistant at least. My duty is not to kill her with these.” His hands lifted, showing a collection of slim throwing knives held between his knuckles. “I give no guarantees. Shall we give my poor victim a moment of applause?”  
  
Araelyra pulled her eyes from the man who was now idly tossing one of the slim weapons from hand to hand, the others that were there no where to be seen. It did not comfort her in the least, and that strange choking sensation only strengthened itself around her neck. She swallowed, meeting Rosavyn's eyes for a fraction of a second. The thundering applause that was going on around her had no sound, the dull thud of her heartbeat strong in her ears.  
  
With her attention away from him, she didn't see the flick of his wrist that sent the first blade streaking through the air to lodge itself deep in the wood beside her elbow. The solid contact of the metal in wood shook her and the chains that held her, and she shifted uncomfortably. Their eyes met again, and she caught that glimmer of malice in his eyes before the second was flung and hit the board beside her hip. Close enough for her to feel the splinter of the wood beneath the blade.  
  
A third and fourth, outlining her body just beneath her arms. Her breath came in quicker bursts, tangles of fear curling around her heart as the fifth blade sank home in the curve of her neck, only a hair's breadth from her skin. Dimly, slowly, she became painfully aware that the quickness of her breath was not only fear. Her head turned away as a sixth dagger appeared just shy of where her ear would have been if she had not moved.  
  
She opened her eyes, unaware that she had ever closed them, and focused once more. The man was unarmed for the moment, and she breathed a deep sigh of relief. Maybe this would be over. Maybe Rosa would let her go now. Araelyra relaxed against the wood, disinterested in the frame of knives that surrounded her now. The applause that had been present at every throw was dying away, soft whispers trading between the audience.  
  
He wasn't done. She groaned inwardly, turning her head up to see the chains that bound her, and then looked back to him. Araelyra couldn't help the sharp intake of breath when she saw what he held. A dagger that was larger than the others, the blade along one side sharpened to lethality, while the other looked to be rippled. No matter how she focused, she couldn't pin the exact shape of the thing, the black metal almost seeming to warp in her sight.  
  
And then it was gone, flung towards her and she couldn't help her reaction. Fear raged through her, latent arcana brimming and then boiling over as she tried to summon enough defense to turn the blade that was coming at her. His warning forgotten, it was remembered only when it was too late. As if a night of long training that had left her exhausted, she felt weaker than ever, and even that wasn't the worst.   
  
Euphoria, the rich waves of sated addiction and primal lust, mixed together with her fear in a potent backdraft to her magic. At once, she felt the hands of every lover she had ever taken on her skin, kneading and nipping at her flesh. Hours of luxurious surrender turned on her in the span of a few seconds, and then to become torment as the blade slammed home between her legs. The applause was ear-shattering to her, and her body shook with the effort to not scream out loud. She could feel the steel at her apex, cut through her robes and parting her folds, quickly warming to her body.   
  
But there had never been a finish. Araelyra stood on the edge of a cliff that hid the sultry voices calling to her, beckoning her to jump and fall into their arms, to lose herself, and yet she was vexingly chained where she was, unable to give herself that last push into blissful oblivion.   
  
“I warned you...” There was a laugh in his voice, hidden beneath the scolding tone. He pressed against her, pulling the slim-bladed daggers from the board one by one, letting her lean against him as if it might help her to center herself again. “No one is watching you. Go ahead and fall.” His hand gripped the larger dagger that was sheathed between her legs, fingers sliding along the metal to find her skin.  
  
She shuddered at the feel of his knuckle brushing along her folds, blocking the metal from her, and she mewled as he drew back along that same line, digging just deep enough. Part of her wanted to refuse, wanted to curse him for touching her, and she knew the blush that heated her cheeks was sign enough of her shame. Yet he remained there, and her shame became two-fold when she realized that it was not him moving at all; her hips moved of their own will, begging for that last ounce of pleasure he seemed to promise.  
  
One arm wound about her, pulling her face against his shoulder while he made it seem to those who might be watching that he was only supporting her while he unchained her. The other hand tilted, pressing the top of his hand roughly against her folds and clit and dragging as he pulled the final weapon from the wood, and Araelyra was forced to stifle her moan against his skin as she came.  
  
Her legs gave out, and when he released one of her hands from the shackles, she wrapped it about him with no shame in the least. He made no mention of it, sheathing the dagger in his belt before curling his arm about her waist and unchaining her from the last binding. Her hand gripped his arm, drawing strength from him until she was certain she could stand on her own. Only when she could did she push away from him, not seeing the flash of amusement in his eyes as he observed her stumbling steps back to her friend.  
  
Araelyra didn't look back, gripping Rosa's arm with such strength that the rogue could barely hold back her yelp. The two left quickly, heading for the city and then the tavern they both enjoyed. Rosavyn's initial shock melted away by the time they entered the structure, retelling the story from her perspective to her friend and then, after they had sat down, to all the patrons nearby.  
  
It was past midnight by the time she staggered to one of the rooms that had been recently vacated on the upper floors. Rosavyn had vanished an hour before, citing duties to take care of in lands far away, and promising that they would see each other again within the month. Not wanting to walk back to the Tier, she chose instead to spend the night in the tavern. Better to stay where she had put herself than to stumble blindly in the city and be taken advantage of.  
  
She was halfway into the room she thought was her own when she realized that she was not alone. It was the door closing behind her that warned her, and she turned towards it only to be confronted by the broad-shouldered blade thrower from hours before. He was nude, save for a towel that had been wrapped about his waist. The sun-blond hair was still damp, sticking along his back and shoulders, and she felt herself flush when she realized that her eyes had been avidly watching a droplet of water trickle down his sculpted chest.  
  
“You did not strike me as the type to intrude on others, arcanist.” His fingers reached, brushing along her jawline and pushing a red curl back from her face. “But I see that you are quite a bit intoxicated. Should I escort you to your room, or do you seek retribution for earlier?”  
  
He was mocking her, and the very thought of it flared her anger again. Quick with fire, her temper was no less easy to turn from spark to inferno... but he knew that. Those damnable eyes danced with laughter as he watched her, stepping back as she moved to push past him only to catch her wrist and pull her tight against him. Again he brushed the hair from her face, looking over her as if she were a prize. Perhaps she was.  
  
“Was it only the chains that did that to you, or are you one who delights in fear? Can you give yourself up to someone and trust in them, knowing not their intentions? I do wonder...” His grip hardened around her as she struggled, trying to pull herself away. Magic was useless, her intoxication too far to enable her the clear mind that allowed control over it. “Should we see just how brave you can be, disobedient little mouse?”  
  
“I can scream,” she slurred.  
  
“You could.” He said it almost as an invitation, as if expecting her to take in the breath that would start it all. When she did not, he let his hand drift to the lacing at her collar, picking at it as if in thought. “Yet, you won't.”  
  
Araelyra frowned, turning her eyes from his. When she looked back, they widened in surprise. Against her lips was pressed the flat of a blade, and she shuddered as the cool metal drifted downward. It grazed her chin and below, forcing her breath to stop as it skated over her neck and then hooked beneath the ties of her robes and tugged, slicing clean through. Her lips pursed, moved as if to chide him for such a foolish action, and she felt the metal on her bare skin.  
  
He loosened his grip on her, watching her eyes follow the blade as it cut through the silk of her robes, undressing her without ever once touching her. When the fabric refused to fall from her, he flipped it away with the flat of his dagger. He relished the shudder that followed his movements, his head tilting in to nose along her jaw and to her ear. “Too much pride. The rule that you'll live by, and die for. Even now?”  
  
There was no response from her, and he accepted it as her silent surrender. The bodice of her robes gone from her, the skirt fell easily around her feet, and they moved together towards the wall. Araelyra shifted when the wood met the skin of her back, looking up to him with confusion in her eyes. He never answered her, turning away to grab a coil of rope and a long-handled blade from the foot of his bed.  
  
She flinched as the blade sunk into the wood above her head, meeting his cocky grin with a grimace of her own. “I thought that was all for show.”  
  
“It is, mostly. I admit a penchant for showing off when I am given the chance to do so.” He moved back against her, pushing her flat against the wall once more. His hands roamed as they had done before, touching at her hips and sliding upwards to catch her arms and lift them above her head.  
  
She felt, more than saw, the rope against her skin. It wound tight along her wrists to her elbows, and it was only when he lowered his own hands to trail the pads of his fingers down her breasts and around her nipples that she realized she had been bound once more, and she found she didn't mind it. Her head rolled back, eyes viewing the lacing of the rope that now held her to the hilt of the wood-trapped dagger, the ends left long and framing her body. Her fingers flexed as her back arched, pushing her breasts out to him and only being denied the full contact.  
  
His grin was wide, viewing her with the eye of a master artist. Lower still the fingers drifted, feathering over her stomach and hips to her thighs. One hand dipped, scooping beneath her thigh to to her knee, lifting it until she had no choice but to stand on the tips of her toes on the other foot. One end of the rope was fed under and then over and knotted, and the process repeated on the other side.  
  
Araelyra shifted uncomfortably, her bottom lip caught between her teeth in uncertainty. She was a woman used to being in control, and this position gave her none of that in the least. Spread wide for him, supported only by his blade sunk into the wall, her uncertainty turned to the dim constriction of fear as he nudged his hand against her thigh, and she swung just slightly.  
  
“There. Pretty as a picture, as some would say...”  
  
Darkness enfolded her as a strip of silk was tied about her eyes. She heard the sound of metal on metal, and shivered. That growing sense of fear surged more, and with it came the arousal and shame of enjoying such a thing. Her thoughts were interrupted by the feel of cold metal on her skin, the press of steel against her breast. In her blindness, she was unsure if it was blunt or sharp, and her mind filled in the blanks with rapid clarity.  
  
He let the metal warm to her skin before moving it. Not sharp at all, a rounded letter-opener from the desk in the corner, he knew what likely lingered in her mind. The tip danced along her skin, pressing along the underside of her breast and then drifting upwards to trail circles around her erect nipple. Fine lines of white followed the item, vanishing against the flush of her skin in mere moments. Lazily, he tormented her with the letter-opener while his other hand toyed with his towel, drawing it away from his body.   
  
It was all she could do not to struggle. The object he was holding to her fed her fear, helpless to retaliate. Every teasing trace of the blade across her nipple brought a whimper of uncertainty, tiny bumps appearing on her skin with her shivers to vanish again. Her hearing caught the sound of the towel, mentally turning it into a flogger that he cracked menacingly, forcing a plea-like whine from her.  
  
His lips curled in that cruel smirk as he heard her, and he moved from her to the bed. Tossing down the towel, he instead caught up another blade. Sharper than any that he had used during his performance, he mused for a moment before taking his place in front of her again. “Sharp, or dull?” He ran the letter opener down her chest, between her breasts to her stomach.  
  
“Sh-sharp...”  
  
He chuckled darkly, turning the letter opener so that the blade was in his palm, and let the rounded handle drift along her thighs to the apex of her folds. “And now?”  
  
“Ah...” Her body shuddered, fingers flexing again as she fought not to move. The urge was insane, and her restraint caused goosebumps up along her back. “I...” His thumb flicked out, dragging the nail along the sensitive skin of her labia, and she all but screamed, struggling for a few moments before relaxing again. “Sharp!”  
  
“Mmm...” His noise was contemplative, deceitful as he parted her folds with his fingers and guided the hilt of the letter-opener into her. Her moan was sweet, the catch of her breath as he pumped the object in and out from her feeding his own sense of sadistic glee. “Are you certain?”  
  
Araelyra groaned, her head rolling back again as her walls spasmed just slightly around the object. “N-no...” It couldn't be sharp, she could almost feel the rounded metal, as if someone had stacked three balls atop each other to form the hilt. Her pussy gripped each of them as they left her, and she mewled softly as it was pulled from her completely and tossed aside to the bed. She heard the soft thump of it, and felt his presence leave her for a moment.  
  
He returned with the candle that lit the room, watching her closely. Slowly, he tilted the candle over her skin, allowing a few drops of wax to cover her skin. A moment passed, letting her catch her breath again before he dripped more, meeting the faint pain of heat against her skin with the subtle heat of his cock pressing against her folds. More wax dripped, his hips rolling and pressing the crown of his member against her clit before letting it push on by.  
  
“S-stop that...” She wasn't sure what she was asking him to stop. The skin beneath the cooling wax stung, little droplets of fire on her flesh that fed her arousal, but not nearly as much as his slow torment. She knew that feeling, the press of his cock against her familiar and tempting.  
  
He did stop, but only the wax. His other hand lifted, bringing the sharp weapon to her skin. There was a sharp intake of breath, a sliver of red appearing beneath the edge as he feathered it over her stomach. Her whimper of discomfort brought him out of his reverie, and he moved the blade to the wax that had pooled over her breasts, slowly shaving it away from her skin.  
  
She could feel it, the nerveless scrape of the blade on the wax and then, after a few moments, the chill of the metal on her skin. This one she knew was sharp; his hand had become more careful than before. The slight sting as sweat mixed with the shallow cut he had inflicted made her burn, but not as much as the heat of his mouth on her skin where he had freed it from the candle drippings.  
  
He rocked his hips again, and as he freed her from the last of the wax, allowed himself to slide within, finally joining them both. Her blissful moan was music to his ears, the way she so obviously wanted to feel more of him and yet was held back by the blade that now rested against her pale neck made it all the more beautiful. He was in control, and they both knew it.  
  
Araelyra surrendered to it. Her breathing came in short gasps, too afraid to breathe too deeply for fear of cutting herself on a blade that was razor-thin. She felt every motion, the grip of his hand on her waist as he kept her from moving while he slowly slid into her until their bodies met, and then out. Slow, tempting, torture. Moments of feeling blissfully filled only to be painfully empty as he pulled completely from her each time. Minutes of this, and then the blade was pulled away just so and she breathed deep. Her head felt light, her body heavy, and all of her burned with both numb pain and pleasure.   
  
Then his pace quickened, and her hearing caught the sound of his own breath. Rougher breaths, controlled and yet shuddering. Familiar sounds, ones she had heard before, and they mingled with the slowly rising slap of his thighs on her own. His hand grabbed at her hip in an almost painful grip, but her own body was riding a rising wave of pleasure; arousal from stimulation, from fear, and from being used.  
  
That precipice again, calling to her by name and begging her to fall into bliss. Her own begging, soft at first and then louder as her body yielded beneath his thrusts that had become rough and primal, and then the odd sensation of falling as his hand moved to slice the blade through the bonds that held her legs. They wrapped about his hips, slamming them together in such a way that pain made her spasm, and that sent him over his own edge.  
  
He came, ropes of seed filling her, and that warmth spurred her own climax. Her scream was muffled by the crash of his mouth on hers, drawing her into a heated kiss that didn't die when their euphoria did. Both were breathless when they finally parted, and he made no move to withdraw from her even when he slowly unbound her from where she hung.   
  
Relieved, she slumped against him, her arms circling his neck and her face burying in the crook of his shoulder while he turned and carried her to the bed, gently laying her down. His hips moved, slowly pumping his half-flaccid length inside of her while he removed the blindfold, meeting her lust-drugged eyes with his own. They shared a grin, her nails curling along the back of his neck as he bent near and brushed his lips against her jaw. “I could use an assistant...”  
  
Araelyra chuckled softly, burying her face in his hair for a moment. “Convince me...”  
  
The man laughed, looping an arm behind her back and pulling her up against him as he turned and dropped himself back on the bed. “Mmm...” His fingers trailed along her back, one hand sliding up into her crimson mane while the other slipped lower to toy with her ass. “I'm the one with rope and knives, beautiful. I'm afraid you've no choice if that's what I decide...”  
  
For a moment she simply laid against his chest, her legs on either side of him. Then her lips pulled in a grin that could only be described as rakish, her eyes dancing with the same light as they met his own. “I could scream.”  
  
Again he laughed, pulling her hair firmly until her throat was bare to him, and he nipped at the flesh a few times before suckling at it, his voice a deep growl. “You will...”


	9. Silithus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a story about a gnome that doesn't involve some sort of tinkering gadget or another? Especially female gnomes! It's impossible, I'll just say that right now. No, I'm not giving you anything too tame just yet. Klepta Gearfizzle is a rather aptly named young gnome who simply can't catch a break when it comes to machinations and the like. So she instead chooses to break out into the wide world, as so many young gnomes decide to do... but she likes to take things. Lots of things.
> 
> Really, she shouldn't be too surprised when she finds out what happens to thieves. Granted, I'm not certain that abduction by silithid while masturbating is exactly what one might expect from karma when it comes to stealing, nor the whole... breeding, or maybe even the entire part of not quite living long enough to escape. If a bug fucks you when you masturbate, is it rape? I would have to imagine that traumatic insemination isn't exactly something girls write home about... Didn't your mother ever tell you not to stare?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my favorite, and I think it shows. I may well edit this one later to something a bit more inspired.

It had all been too easy. Sneak into the camp, into the tent, and grab the item and be gone before the lovers even finished! She had known that she'd only have a minute or so at most, but she had pulled it off without a hitch. Shame that no one ever bothered looking down when they looked for trouble. Klepta grinned as she continued dashing across the sands, holding her prize closely against her chest. Sure, it wasn't what her Da wanted her doing at all, but he wasn't around anymore to tell her what to do!   
  
Klepta slowed as her tent came into view, and peeled back the hood that kept her candy pink hair covered. With the full moon, she could see her treasure perfectly, and so she paused in her escape to lift the item up and spin it in her hands. A little smaller than a bottle of ale, and tapered at both ends, it really wasn't an impressive object. The surface of it was the color of ivory, and smoother than Uncle Gearfizzle's bottom, save for a few places where the surface was raised to create a small bump no bigger than the tip of her pinky.  
  
She didn't know what it was for, but that didn't really matter much either. Klepta had a fantastic collection of knick-knacks and other items that she didn't know the use for in one way or another. The one thing that she did know was that they were hers now, and that was all that she really cared about. Especially after the way she had been treated! How could she know that the human man had been married!? He didn't seem to mind too much while he was riding her ass.  
  
“Serves her right! Let's see her go back to her stupid Explorer's League now.” Klepta grinned and cradled the thing again, happily skipping into her tent.  
  
Hours passed. The heat of the day in Silithus had long faded, bringing with it an extremely dry cold that chilled to the bone. Not for the first time, Klepta damned the human man and his 'marriage,' tossing about beneath her thick furs in an attempt to distract her mind from what she wanted. No, what she needed. With a grunt, she pushed her leather leggings down, shimmying her hips and happily kicking the furs and leather aside to spread her legs wide and run her fingers along her plump, hairless labia.  
  
The simple touch made her shiver, and she bit her lip while closing her eyes, envisioning the human man above her again. Oh, he had stretched her so very nice... a real shame about the other woman. Klepta groaned huskily, maneuvering her ankles behind her head as she ceased the teasing and plunged two fingers into herself. The sound of wet movement accompanied her groans for a time before it became too much, and the released a growl of frustration as she flung her hands above her head.  
  
“Not enough!” The woman pouted, looking around her sparse tent. Her eyes fell on the object she had taken earlier, and she grinned a sadistic little grin before rolling onto her stomach and grasping the item. “Well, it's mine now anyway. Might as well use it!” Klepta shrugged as she reclined, bringing the object to her labia and twisting it back and forth to lubricate it just a bit. Without much preamble, she pushed it into herself, hissing as it stretched her much more than she had anticipated.  
  
So enraptured with her pleasure, she didn't notice the sound of something shifting beneath the sand under her. Her hips bucked as the last of the object vanished inside of her, and she enjoyed working her muscles to push the object out of her, and then bouncing it back in with her fingers. Her breathing became more rapid, tiny body arching as she finally shoved the item in as far as it would go and ground roughly down on her clit with the heel of her hand. The world opened up under her, and her scream of pleasure because one of terror that quickly muffled in the night.  
  
“Hngh...”  
  
Dust tickled her nose and made her sneeze, her pink hair flying up around her face before her head crashed down hard against the ground. A whimper of pain escaped her, and she rubbed the back of her head with a sticky hand that smelled... different. Her eyes narrowed on her fingers, noting that the viscous fluid certainly wasn't anything that could possibly have come out of her. She pushed herself up, grimacing as her foot sank into more of the goo-like liquid, and slowly stepped further into the room that looked like nothing she'd seen before.  
  
Or smelled.   
  
“Ugh...” Her nose wrinkled in disgust as the smell of fetid rot met her senses, pushing her wonder of the area out quite quickly. There was a silence to the room that was unnerving, and she found herself drawn to the sides, where large formations of that sticky goo were placed on the walls. Some of them writhed and twisted while others remained completely still, but it was clear that the dry sands of Silithus did not wick away the moisture down here.  
  
Her eyes trailed along the cavernous floor, and came across a small pile of items similar to that of which she was only just using as a toy. They were submerged in the goopy material, and she plunged a hand curiously into the mix only to find that the surfaces of those items were more like soft leather, and not smooth ivory. Her curiosity sated, she stumbled away from the piles and delved further into the softly glowing room.   
  
“What is...” Her eyes widened as she came upon a prone figure laid out on the ground. The woman's belly was distended greatly, and her glassy eyes stared at the ceiling in a way that almost mimicked death, but the gnome's sharp eyes caught the rise and fall of her chest long before she was close enough to identify her as the very woman she had stolen the same object from hours ago. Klepta crept closer, poking a finger at the figure and received only a dull gurgle in response.  
  
Properly terrified, Klepta backed up quickly and promptly tripped herself up, landing in a puddle of the goo. Her struggles were in vain as it closed around her ankles, seeming to harden. Or perhaps she was simply tired... “H-hey!” Her voice was small, but she yelled out at the woman anyway. “Get up and help me! You and that guy sure pick odd places to fuck. Are you listening to me!? Hey! AEEEIII!”  
  
Klepta squealed as the woman's stomach distended and then burst, twenty small forms skittering away from the carnage to vanish into the caverns. The woman uttered a silent cry, a viscous bubble rising from her lips before popping and dying away. “Oh, Light. I've gotta... I've gotta... HEEEEEEELP MEEEEEE!” Her body struggled against her slimy bonds until she had no energy left, and tears streamed down her face. “I let him cum in me. Oh, oh... I'm gonna die. I feel sick. He's a monster!”  
  
The gnome ceased her struggles and began to pant, her breathing so rapid that her head began to swim. “I... uh...” Her eyes dropped closed for only a moment she felt, but she woke to find that she was surrounded. The mutilated body had been disposed of, but the figures around her weren't those of humans or anything humanoid at all! They were low to the ground, crouching before her, and her mind couldn't quite recollect what outline the forms were until they were closer, and she saw the mandibles that clicked eagerly.   
  
“Oh, heeell no!”   
  
She kicked a foot as one of them crept close enough, glad to feel the slime crack around her leg as it broke free and met the hardened carapace of the silithid. It chittered angrily, rising up on back legs and lifting it's front in a general display of dominance that distracted Klepta long enough for another to grab her by the hair and pull her free. She went with a scream as the thing dragged her to where the human woman had been, throwing her down and then slamming the tip of it's pointed foot into her own. Flesh split beneath the force, and she screamed in agony.  
  
She was answered only with more chittering as more of the oversized bugs gathered and swarmed around her, driving more screams from her as they pinned her arms down with that same brutal method. The ooze that coated the floor stung her open wounds, and it was a long time before she realized that none of those present had moved aside from puncturing her tiny hands and feet. Her body quivered and she sniffled, gasping for air in between hiccups.   
  
The two near her head lifted their bodies in another show of dominance, chittering excitedly as something else approached. Klepta lifted her head enough to see a line of smaller beetle-like silithid bringing forward those curious objects. Her own curiosity, that natural instinct within all of the gnomish race, peaked and then died as the first of that long line approached her and dropped it's cargo in front of her bare snatch. It crept away while one of the guards on her foot slowly prodded it between her labia and then slipped it into her with a wet sound.  
  
Klepta couldn't help it. The feeling of being stretched again brought a moan forth that might have made the whores in Stormwind blush, and it didn't stop. Over and over, they slipped more of them into her until at last they could fit no more. A part of her that was quite lucid screamed at her to realize what was happening as her stomach bulged around those odd objects, but another part of her felt delightfully drugged on the arousal that numbed even her pain.   
  
She barely noticed as the silithid spit something over her lips that quickly hardened and kept the objects from being squeezed from her, and her drugged mind didn't register the pain as the bugs moved away from her when a much larger one came to loom above her. Klepta writhed as it moved against her, scraping it's stomach along her own. That same voice came back to her, beating at her bliss and tearing it down as the thing backed away, and she saw what was beneath it, hanging like a large hypodermic needle.  
  
Quite suddenly, all thoughts of arousal were gone and replaced by horrifically frightened curiousity. It came closer, dragging against her leg and dancing lightly along her slime-hardened labia. With a frustrated sounding chitter and a mewl of trepidation from the gnome, it tickled the sharp tip of it's shaft lightly along her distended stomach before lunging forward. Klepta's scream of pain echoed in the room, and she struggled greatly even as the silithid lowered down on her and pinned her beneath it's bulk as it sent more and more of it's seed directly into her, directly to what she now realized were eggs.  
  
“No!” Her cry became an agonized wail as a searing pain split her tiny frame, and the bug pulled back only to lance her again in another spot. The room began to darken, the shapes became fuzzy, and the sight of her stomach bulging was the last thing she saw before her eyes glazed over...


	10. Stranglethorn Vale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you know what rape is, my pet? No, of course you wouldn't. Not personally, at least. For some, the border between rape and simply playful roughness is something they like to dance all over. Not so much here... at least not on the outside. I daresay the worst of it for some is how badly they don't want it, and yet it some dark part of their mind, they must combat the fact that they do. It's... humiliating. Horrifying.
> 
> On a quiet night in Stranglethorn, a kaldorei woman finds out just how humiliating it can be. She's no stranger to sexual acts, not one to shy from carnal activities like a virgin might. One could even say she seeks them out... but not with trolls. Ah, I do love trolls. Especially the men. Savage beings, even more so than the orcs in my opinion. They've combined animalistic cunning with mortal strength and logic. Sorry, a tangent...
> 
> This night, a troll male finds the perfect prey to sate his lusts. He quickly realizes that his target is no innocent, and is like a wild animal when cornered, but that's half the fun for him. Half the fun is watching their ferocity become fear, their assured behavior crumble before him. The other half? Well, you'll see...”

It started with an urge. The mating calls of the animals in the jungle beat upon his skull like a hammer to anvil, driving him mad with his own pent lust while he lay quietly in his hut of leaves. The smell of rain still lay thick in the air, but the worst of the storm had passed. With a groan, Yul'jin propped himself on his elbows and glanced down along his body to where his cock lay rigid against his body, twitching with anticipation that would not be fulfilled. No stranger to self-pleasure, the troll had spent nearly three hours trying to find some sort of release with only his own devices, but it would not come. The jungle was deep in his blood, and when it rang with the cries of lust on the most base level, nothing but that would work for him. He knew it in his bones, and was frustrated by it.  
  
After a few moments of his silent glaring at himself, he turned to his stomach and pushed himself up, stretching tall with a roll of his shoulders as he grabbed his breeches and tunic and threw them over his arm and left his hut. A small pool of water nearby served for both drinking and bathing, though the first was done from the smaller pool above that was fed by a stream. A grunt left him, all but jumping into the frigid water and feeling the instant effect of sanity. It cooled his lust mildly, and made it easier to get into his simple clothing. Dry, but not at peace, he grasped a coil of vine-rope and his hunting knife before silently padding away from his home and into the trees.  
  
The moon was high in the trees before he even made it down into the main jungle. His home was in the cliffs for a reason; very few animals cared to get into the sparser trees for what they might find near the walls of the ruins he lived near. It meant he had to go further than most to hunt, but he did not mind that so much. His heart had begun to race quicker when he swung himself into the trees, a sign he knew from many times before. Even if he had not noticed it quite yet, his body knew beyond a doubt that his conquest would be soon. Sooner than he could have hoped. Yul'jin slipped silently through the upper boughs of the thick foliage, crouching beneath low branches and pushing aside vines that had grown up into the trees.  
  
The sound of the larger falls near his home caught his ear, and without even questioning himself, he moved from tree to tree in search of the place. It was a bastion for those of all races to congregate when the jungle became too warm, and he had no doubts that he'd find something of use to him there now. His pace slowed as the noise became louder, slipping to the lower branches of the tree to peer through leaves down to the water, and he grinned.  
  
She was pale and not of his kind, though he was not certain of it completely until she lifted herself from the water she had been floating upon. Her body was shorter and more plush than most of her kind, almost too human, but the long ears were clue enough for him. White hair spilled down her back and danced in the water, an impressive length for anyone who might actually know combat of the melee variety. The heat in his groin increased as she made it to the bank and bent low, displaying herself to him in an unknown fashion. His choice was made before she righted herself, and he waited patiently as she made her way to her things.  
  
Lower he dropped, freezing in place as she ceased moving and let her slender ears flick to and fro, as if she had heard him. Impossible, he believed... but one could never be too careful. He let her dress, the robe fitting snugly around her ample breasts and thick hips, the white fabric hiding nothing as her damp hair fell over it. The wind switched and brought her scent to him, and he nearly fell over from the arousal therein. His fingers dug into the soft wood, making it bend beneath his nails, and he watched her walk beneath him and then away. Without another thought, he sprung at her retreating back.  
  
She fell, but not easily. With a cat-like grace, her upper body turned and led the lower as she fell, hitting the ground on her back and already reaching to grab at one of his tusks. His hand grasped at her own, and she froze for only a moment before she blinked and was gone. He grinned again when he realized what had happened, and heard her retreating footsteps through the undergrowth, matching the thundering of his blood in his ears. Content to let her run, he loped after her with an easy sort of grace, his bare feet grasping thick roots and vaulting him further. He didn't mind that she was running herself in a circle; these were not the forests of her kin's home, and the more she ran, the easier it would be. After a time, he broke from her path to circle around and cut her off, dropping from the trees as she backed into the area. Her gasp of surprise as his hands grasped at her again dissolved into a growl of rage, and he knew pain. Fire lanced up his arms, stunning him, and she vanished again as he recovered.   
  
A quick recovery, his latent regeneration spurring on his healing capabilities while he took off after her. Through the trees and over ground, he chased her, guiding her as easily as if he had chained her neck and dragged her through the woods himself. He broke twigs and snapped vines, made her shy from safety only to dive further into his waiting grasp. When at last she met the beginnings of the cliffs that were near his home, he sat back in the branches and watched her squirm. Her silver eyes darted back into the trees, clearly watching for him, but he knew she could not see him. Fear had turned the shadows against her, and she could see him in every nook and cranny.  
  
His ears picked up murmuring, the sound of prayer beneath her breath as she turned back to the stone and felt along it as if it might open beneath her touch. He watched her ears droop, her fingers curling and becoming fists to beat on the earth. Yet she did not scream or cry. Her breathing was rapid, her fear was apparent, but she did not become nothing. Content with her predicament, he sprung at her again, gripping her wrists with ease and pinning her hands while he slammed himself against her back. She was much smaller than he had first thought, her head coming only to the middle of his chest. Against him, she squirmed and pushed back, uncaring as her muscles became strained. Adrenaline, he knew, surged through her as she thought herself about to die.  
  
One hand released her own, going quickly to her slender throat and clamping down, ceasing her voice and nearly her breathing. His other hand wound in her hair, serving to pull her along with him as he backed her towards the jungle again. She twisted and writhed, nails tearing into his hands as she spat obscenities with what little breath he would allow her. Yul'jin let her scream her anger towards him, knowing that no one would be able to find him or her once he got them into the jungle. His grip released her as soon as they made it to the shade, throwing her down. She landed on her knees, already moving to bolt, and then he was on her again. One foot drove down between her shoulder blades, pinning her upper body tight against the ground while he grabbed her wrists and pulled them back, tying them easily and then guiding the rope along her thighs and tightening, forcing her to curl with her hands bound tight to her calves.  
  
He sat himself on her clothed rump, bracing his legs to keep himself still even as she squirmed, and lowered the blade of his knife to her robes. With a tearing sound, they split under the keen edge, and the cool metal made her still for just a moment. Long enough for him to continue shredding the cloth and freeing her skin to the humid air. He dragged the blade along her skin, watching a line of white appear as he did so. The blade danced along her skin, drawing closer to her folds, and he felt her squirm again in an attempt to inch away from the sharp edge. Yul'jin flipped the blade around, and instead let the wooden handle slide along her labia before inching it further, pushing a little deeper, parting them and sliding the hilt into her. Her body shuddered beneath him, and he framed the blade in his fingers while holding the hilt between, forcing the smooth wood back into her even as she worked to push it out.  
  
This continued until he could feel the beginning of her betrayal, the slick wetness that moistened her labia and the knife handle, and then he removed it from her and felt a different sort of shudder even as she growled her hate at him. The shudder of a body that felt alone, empty... he could fix that. Standing, he pushed his foot against her side and toppled her over, working to free everything but her wrists. Her mouth moved, and he felt something unnatural prick at his ears, and the knife went against her throat in a dire warning. One she knew quite quickly. Silence became her companion, the feeling dying away as she called off the latent energy and glared her hate at him. He returned her glare with a wicked grin, moving her to her back and planting a foot on her pelvis while he considered what more he could do to her.  
  
He did not consider his options long, bending to grasp the flimsy cloth that covered her and tore it. She gasped, writhing as cool air made her body respond. Yul'jin chuckled as her nipples hardened, and dropped his body so that he straddled her pelvis and thighs while still holding the blade to her neck. He tore the rest of the robes open, dragging his free hand along her skin and feeling her revulsion as she danced and shied away from his touch, hissing her disdain. Her squirming stopped as he bent over her, his tusks dangerously close to her neck while he adjusted himself, pulling her legs apart and keeping them open while he pulled her closer to him, until her folds lay over the cloth that barely restrained his length.   
  
His hips rocked, driving the rough cloth against her most sensitive areas, and she whimpered just slightly, her fingers clenching and releasing. Content that she would not be fool enough to try anything foolish with his knife and tusks a looming threat, he continued that simple rocking motion while one hand came up to pinch and tug at her nipples, pulling the sensitive buds until she yelped and whimpered, growled and spat her fury at him. Her legs bucked and kicked, and he was forced to roll away from her as she managed a well-placed kick to his forehead. For a moment, he saw stars, and then the retreating of her plush backside as she scrambled to her feet and made a run for it.   
  
A fruitless endeavor. He was on her again before she could steady her quivering legs, and he heard the breath leave her as he slammed her back against a tree, grasping one large breast and kneading it in his hand while he left his tusk against her neck. Still she fought, punching at him with her bound hands and trying to drive her knees into sensitive areas, but his height was working to his advantage, and she was unable to do much more than irritate his shins with the jungle twigs stuck to her feet. The rough bark bit into her skin as she thrashed, and the softest whimper of pain and frustration came into her screams of rage and hate as his teeth closed on her soft skin, tongue working along her flesh to soothe it. She froze, and he kicked her feet from under her, relishing her cry as she fell to the ground, her knees beneath her.  
  
His hands worked to bind her own above her head, keeping it tight while he pinned her chest with a foot. He felt her teeth close on one toe, and jerked it away only to return her hate on her, driving his nail against her cheek and opening a welt of red along her pale features. She quieted then, glaring up at him with a flush across her cheeks as he drew away and undid his leggings. Her eyes went wide, realization fully sinking in when he approached her again. In vain, she turned her head from him as he took his cock in hand and pressed the tip against her lips, and the action made pre-cum smear over the cut on her cheek. His free hand flipped the knife back, one finger holding it while the other finger and thumb pinched her nose closed.  
  
Her eyes narrowed, and she thrashed more, but in the end opened her mouth all the same and without any preamble, he shoved the first few inches of his cock into her mouth and held it there, his knife pressed against her throat to keep her complacent. The further he pushed into her mouth, the more her eyes closed, and he retreated as he heard her gag, letting her catch her breath before he pushed further, pulling back his knife as her throat bulged around his length. Another whimper from her as he wriggled his hips, delighted with how her throat worked to swallow him. It was enough for him to simply become lost in the feeling of her breathing splashing against his pelvis while he pulled out of her mouth, watching her drool a moment before he thrust back in, and felt his sac slap against her bulging throat.  
  
His motions became rougher, grabbing her hair to keep her in place as he violated her mouth, his own head rolling back while pleasure spurred through him. It was over too soon, and he hilted firmly in her mouth as his first orgasm overcame him, and his seed spilled from him to fill her throat, her desperate attempts to swallow all of him only pulling more from him, and he withdrew to her coughing, cum leaking from her nose and her lips to spatter on her breasts. His hands dropped to those ample mounds, clasping them around his still hard length and fucking them, bringing the last few strands of cum from him to splatter on her cheeks and chin.  
  
Yul'jin allowed her to catch her breath, cutting her bonds and watching her closely as she knelt and coughed, but did not retch. He wished she had; it might have sated his lust for her enough, but her defiance in just that small thing only made the fire burn more. Looping the rope around her neck, he half-dragged her away from the tree, deeper into the woods. The way was hard, her hands tangling in the rope to pull back against him, more of her strength returning the longer they walked. Sometimes, she dug her heels into the ground and grasped nearby branches, bringing him back to her to strike her nude body and cease her struggles. For an hour, he dragged her until they reached his destination.   
  
The altar was a low one, and had not been used for anything short of a seating place for passing mortals. It still bore the places where chains could be attached, and he threw her up onto the cold stone without much effort. She had stopped fighting so hard the last hundred feet, the rope digging firmly into her slender neck. He released it, and bound her hands and feet with the rope tightly, noting the way she seemed to stare at the canopy as if it might aid her. His seed had long dried, cracking along her dirty face, mixed with the blood from the few wounds he had managed on her.  
  
She moved as he drew away from her legs, sliding his hand along her stomach and to her folds, where he forced one large finger deep within. It was dry, her resistance two-fold as she writhed and attempted to clamp on his fingers, trying to force him out from her as she had tried to force the knife away from her, but as her hips pulled from him and tried to get her away, he only pushed that finger deeper. She never screamed in pain, never screamed for help... but her rage was not quiet, her frustration not unknown. A second finger slid lower, driving carefully into her ass, and she gasped as her body went rigid, eyes wide.  
  
He won a moan, watched the dark flush of shame cross her cheeks, and saw the staggered rise and fall of her chest as a silent sob took her. Her humiliation burned her deeply, and despite her entire body refuting his every action, he forced his hand on her, watching as her writhing only served to have her ride his hand with little effort from him, until he knew that she was fighting herself far more than she was fighting him. His knuckle moved, pushing up against that hidden nodule he knew so well, and she released a wracking sob as her body arched, half desiring what he was doing while the rest of her wholly reviled it. He made her dance for him, made her twist and made her hate turn on herself as much as it was on him, and just when he knew she was about to cum, he pulled his fingers from her, wiping them clean on her outside thigh.  
  
She barely noticed him as he set himself up between her spread legs and angled his cock until it was easy to slide into her. Again, he met that same resistance as she clamped down around him and tried to force him out of her, but she was weakening, and he was not. Hilting in her was easy, though she still squirmed and tried to attack him even as he lowered his face, suckling her nipples and loving the way that simple action made her hate herself more as she released a moan tangled scream of frustration. He tilted his hips, making certain that his quickened pace hit what he knew would push her over, and bucked his hips in an easy rhythm. Once more he felt her body begin to shudder, and he changed the motions, stopping her with a grip on her hips as he pulled out from her and teased her clit with his tip. Then hilted in her rougher, bending over her and bracing a hand near her head while he simply let his body move.  
  
She screamed as she came, tears staining her pretty features as she turned her head and bit into his arm, her fangs going clear to the bone in the lithe limb. He grunted in pain but did not stop, driving another rolling orgasm from her shuddering frame before her walls coaxed a second from him, and he felt release once more in her depths. He didn't mind that she tore into his arm with a fervor better suited for an animal, whimpering as he twitched within her. With a wet plop he withdrew, taking his arm from her and barely noticing the chunk that remained in her mouth until she spat it at him, her chest heaving. Sated, he grabbed his knife and freed one of her hands, not afraid when he turned his back on her and walked away, ignoring her screams of rage and threats of possible dismemberment.   
  
… it was the sounds he heard when she believed him to be vanished from the area, when he watched her slowly burn her bonds and roll from the altar, that made it all the more worth it. She stumbled a few steps and then fell to her knees, her hands over her ears as she screamed her fear and pain to the jungle. The animals responded with cries of their own, and Yul'jin fell asleep in his hut with the echo of the broken woman's screams in his mind while his arm mended.


	11. Silvermoon City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I love clothes. Oh, I know that a book cannot wear a dress as a pretty girl might, but I do love looking at them. The colors, the styles. I might just rustle my pages in a wistful sigh for my love of them, and yet I lack them. There is one, however, who has no lack for dresses or any such designs. A seamstress by day, this lovely lass has dressed half of Dalaran and nearly the entirety of Silvermoon with her fashions, with none the wiser to her delights when night falls.
> 
> “No, I won't say that the clothes are magic and cause the wearer to do such naughty things, but I hardly think one would think the woman who designs such lovely wear would have a secret dream that brings her to stoop as low as, say, prostitution. The life of a working woman is much different than most would think. Some believe it's just one process day in and day out, but she finds all sorts of interesting fun. After all, when you've bought yourself a whore for the night, is there no reason why you can't make her your mistress or your wife for that little bit of time you've plucked her for? -"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another summary too long to contain! Also another personal favorite.

- “Oh, but isn't that half the fun for someone so strong and handsome? Such a powerful man, reduced to nothing beneath the heel of a woman who knows just the right buttons to push. She knows the game he wants her to play, knows that he'll be bringing friends to make the illusion real, to make the shame he'll feel a hundred time worse when the pretty girl he's hired to fulfill a forbidden fantasy humiliates him on a level that none ever dare to.  
  
“For isn't it the bride who truly commands the groom in the end? Isn't it the wife who can make the man kneel and worship as she wishes him to do? Twisting his every security against him while she cuckolds the bastard with his best friends? Refuses to pleasure him with anything but what cannot satisfy others? Dresses in lingerie and lets her feet do a bit of work after a little bit of facesitting? Oh, it's the prettiest whore who can play the bride, but only a wench can rule the night.”

-

The room started dark. The windows were shuttered tightly, allowing no light and very little sound through despite the party that continued in the streets down below. Party-goers and drunken revelers crowded the avenue, sending drunken song up to the room that was hidden in the shadows of an alley in the depths of Murder Row. The inn had been quite accommodating to her specifications, though it had taken several days to find or craft the very specific pieces of furniture that now decorated the room. The Seedy Maiden was a very friendly place to those who walked the night, and the one who paced over the plush rug was a friend to the owner, and so could get away with plenty more than simple redecorating.  
  
She counted her steps across the room to guide her, stopping at thirteen paces to light the candle at her left with a whisper of a word. A second and third bloomed into life beneath her touch, lighting the room in a dim glow that barely touched the large four-poster bed pushed to the wall, the massive oak headboard decorated with curving lines of no particular design, yet they wove a knot that pulled the haphazard imagery into a cohesive design that was pleasant on the eyes. The sheets of the bed were white silk, turned down beneath plush pillows also garbed in the same material. At the foot of the bed was a thick blanket of white folded across the sheets.  
  
A floor mirror caught the light of the next group of candles she lit, seven this time, held in a standing candelabra in the corner of the room. Below it were potted flowers that sent out a sweet scent. Her eyes caught her reflection in the mirror, and not for the first time she admired the floor-length gown that hugged the curves she now bore. Her silver-blonde hair spiraled in loose curls down the middle of her back, tickling the large bow that decorated the back of the wedding gown. She wiggled her toes in the slipper heels, begrudging herself for not taking the time to fully break in the shoes to her own feet.  
  
Pacing back across the room, she passed the single chair that sat in the largest empty space of the room. The fine padding was white, the chair crafted of the same wood that the bed was. It was matched by the dresser she moved to, lighting the final display of five candles before taking up the small portrait on the dresser to gaze at the image it held. At first glance, the woman could have been herself, though she knew different. To become the woman in the image had been her primary goal, a special request made by the client that she had accepted.  
  
It had taken several things to fulfill even that task. Her diet had changed to incorporate richer foods that had helped fill out her slender form into one that was more curved and plush, though still not anything close to showing even the faintest roll where one should not be. The goblins had dyed her hair to the exact shade, shearing the crimson strands and curling them until she was near platinum and as delicately coiffed as an angel might be.  
  
The dress was done by herself, every stitch in the exact same place and nowhere else. Even the lingerie beneath was a perfect match, though the image hardly showed it. That had been done through the help of a few friends more wise to the woman's closet. Her freckles had been hidden with enchantments to replicate the pale, smooth skin of the other woman. At the last, she had spent a week learning herself under a new name. Nothing was to be different this night that wasn't covered in the agreement. Her stomach fluttered as she opened the top drawer of the empty dresser and slid the portrait into it, the closing sound echoed in the breath she expelled. Tonight was a night that could not go wrong; if she pleased this client, his patronage would give her enough support to achieve her dreams, and leave this life behind.  
  
A knock at the door made her breath catch, and she scurried to the mirror for one last glance and primp before folding her hands over her turning stomach. Her voice, naturally sweet and kind, became husky and seductive to match the woman she had only ever heard, but never met. It was a perfect match, tested against even the woman's parents. “Enter.”  
  
The door opened, a gentle shift in the air heralding the movement. “I came the moment -”  
  
“You're late,” she stated, her head turning just enough to peer at him in the reflection of the mirror. “Father may have deemed you a match for me, but I will not tolerate lateness. Either you come when you say, or you tuck your tail between your legs and spend the night with the hounds you so closely resemble.” There came silence, and though her mask of steel never once faded, her mind screamed as the pause grew from seconds into a near minute.  
  
He was cloaked, and so she could not read his face. His hand remained on the knob of the door, flexing there and she was so sure he would leave and slam the door behind him, shattering her dreams as sure as he would fracture the wood.  _I've messed this up. Oh, Light help me. I've failed._  She masked the tremble of her hands in the expanse of the gown, her visage not cracking save for the misery blooming in her eyes.  
  
“I'm sorry.”  
  
The change from sorrow to the rush of utter joy very nearly broke her mask, and she forced it down with enormous difficulty, turning the blooming smile into a sneer of distaste. “You're sorry,” she repeated, turning the honest apology into a vicious phrase dripping with venom. “I'm sorry, too. To have been forced to wed an oaf who leaves his bride standing alone in a room, and was raised in a barn from the looks of it.” He didn't move, and she growled, snapping out the words. “Get in the room and shut the door, you boorish pig!”  
  
The door all but slammed behind him in his haste to obey her, his hood lifting to show a strong jaw beneath the shadows. She observed him, letting him watch as her patience unraveled and she finally snapped her fingers, pointing just behind her. “Help me get this rubbish off, lest I brand you completely useless. Your mother is blinder than a bat, and ties laces like one.” She frowned as he fumbled, letting her impatience wither even further as the minutes passed. “Light help me, you blundering idiot. Have you never unlaced a woman's bodice before? Unless your mother created the whole of Azeroth with those strings, and I don't doubt her to be capable of it, it's just one lace through one hole, weave and repeat.”  
  
Her foot tapped, and when he at last loosened the dress enough for her to move, she shimmied out of it and stepped on the pile of fabric in her haste to leave it behind. “Throw it out the window. I won't have such an ugly thing soiling my closet.” When he did not move, she turned a fierce gaze on him, folding her arms over the delicate lingerie that she wore. “I don't like to repeat myself. Shall I do it slower so you hear me better?” She gestured to the windows. “Throw. It. Out.” Rolling her eyes, she turned away as he slowly hastened to do as she told. “And take the foolish cloak off. If you think no one knows you're here, you're less a fool and more an idiot than I first believed.”  
  
She heard the fabric fall, and prepared to meet her mysterious client. With a frown on her lips, she turned – and very nearly stumbled where she stood.  _Light help me. Ooooh, Light help me. That's not a man, that's a Light-damned god!_  Her legs quivered, and it took every ounce of strength she had not to simply fall to her knees and crawl to his feet. The fire in his eyes was more than simple enjoyment; it was a burning inferno of lust that threatened to consume her where she stood.  
  
At a very young age, she knew that there was a man for every woman. Perhaps it was a fairytale to believe in such fates, but she believed that the man that would be hers could make her melt with just a single look. He would be dashing, and rugged, and handsome beyond all measure. No man would ever match him, no woman would ever be so lucky as her. Here he stood, eyes only on her, and yet she knew he was only a player in the game they had created, and could never truly be hers. Oh, but how she longed for it.  
  
Stowing away her awe and grief at her misfortune, she channeled it instead into the impatience that seemed so natural. “Well? There's a host of people downstairs waiting to hear something more than me demanding my husband act like a man.” Her hands set on her full hips, displaying the teddiette she wore. White lace made up the majority of it, flowing decoratively to contain her ample breasts and trail lower, blooming to frame her nethers before sweeping between her legs, between her supple cheeks and over her hips to close the design. Where the was no lace within the design, the pale blue of the soft silk could be seen, hiding her away. White mesh encompassed her torso. The garters attached to the white thigh-high stockings she wore, her delicate feet encased in the slipper heels.   
  
Her heartbeat jumped as he neared, his height nearly a foot and a half over her own, but she swatted his hands away when they went for the laces that tied atop her shoulders. A sneer still in place, she turned and went for the chair, dropping gracefully into it. Her eyes never left him, privately relishing the lick of his lips as she lifted her legs and set them on the arms of the wide chair, leaving her spread. A snap of her fingers broke him from his trance, and he all but dove to the spot on the floor in front of her.  
  
Her look was expectant, and for a moment he seemed confused as to what she was demanding of him, or if it was even a demand at all. More than willing to get at least this much from him, she leaned forward and grabbed a fistful of his russet hair, dragging his face until it collided with her covered snatch. “Do I have to guide you through all of this, or is there some intelligence in that hound brain of yours?”  
  
Wood groaned beneath her fingers as his nose pressed heavily to her folds, and she mentally begged that her natural response would not be a mark against her. She felt the intake of his breath, the drag of his tongue over her mons before he dipped lower, the tip pressing the thin cloth between her folds to shield tongue from any contact. It was a chore to maintain the image that she was bored while his tongue danced expert circles around her guarded clit, the heat of his suckling over the nerves making remaining still a matter of life or death.  
  
She felt his teeth graze along her labia, and ended the game before she could lose. Masking her pleasure with a heavy sigh of disapproval, one leg moved to press her shoe against his chest, and she shoved him from his already precarious crouch. He landed hard on his ass, falling back onto his elbows as she stood. “Hardly worth my time,” she hissed, stepping to his head before turning, and dropping into a perfect crouch atop his face. Her hips shimmied, grinding her cunt down onto his mouth.  
  
“If you're going to be slack-jawed, at least use your tongue for something. No, not the tip. Are you a lizard? The flat.” Her hands baled into fists as she bit back a moan, using his lack of ability to see to her advantage to send a silent plea to whatever god had blessed her with the wondrous man and his expert tongue. “You,” she sighed, “are more a hound than I thought. Don't lap at my cunt, grind the flat of your tongue against my clit.”  
  
Her very toes curled, and she longed to shriek her ecstasy as he obeyed the command and sent violent thrills up her spine. She settled instead for leaning forward, never letting his tongue leave the soaking fabric that barred it from her moist confines and tugged at the laces that held his breeches closed. “I didn't tell you to stop,” she snapped as he paused for breath, and her skin broke out into goosebumps as he expelled a breath through his nose that she felt clear between the cheeks of her ass.  
  
The breeches fell open, and she masked her gasp with a disbelieving snort. “What is this? Light be good, I'm married to a hound only to find he's got the cock of a -”  _God!_  “- sprite! What am I to do with this? Tickle it with my tongue and hope I might be able to use it to whistle my way to bliss?” Her fingers flicked his cockhead, and she felt him lurch beneath her. She had expected him to wither, but his respectable length pulsed stronger, a shining glob of precum leaking from the tip.  
  
She walked her fingers in exaggerated steps from base to tip, mentally fighting her desire to hilt the beautiful cock inside of her throat, her voice still courting disdain. “Six inches? Six inches is all you bring to me?” She swatted at the cock, delighting in his groans as she punctuated her words with strikes of her fingers, delighting in watching his pre flow more copiously despite the harsh treatment. “This is nothing. You're not fit to be called a man. Man and wife, not wife and boy. And you hoped to beget a son with that nubby little thing.”  
  
Delivering one more groan-inducing blow, she rose to her feet in one easy movement, seating herself in the chair with her chin propped in a palm, sighing forlornly. “This simply won't do. I wanted a husband, not a boy-woman.” A pout formed on her lips while she made as if to think upon her predicament while he caught his breath. Catching her slipper heel on his breeches, she maneuvered it off and let the other follow, setting her stockinged feet upon his thighs. “Just what am I going to do with you?”  
  
She inched her foot over his cock, rubbing it with the stocking-covered pad in her contemplation. He groaned, and a wicked smirk took over her lips, her second foot coming to join the first as she purposefully fumbled with her stroking, clasping the shaft between her feet and breaking rhythm as his hips bucked. “Oh, isn't this precious,” she hissed, running the soft but textured material over his skin, crooking her toes around his shaft while smothering his leaking tip with the arch of the other. “I suppose your embarrassing problem can be helped with something like this, hmm?” Her ankle moved circles, forcing the fabric to loosen and wrap around his tip while her foot continued to stroke him. “Wittle baby boy-woman can't even make a foot feel good. Pathetic.”   
  
Her eyes widened as he grasped her feet, planting the soles and heels together as he aimed his cock in the small hole made by the arches, furiously pumping his hips while she recovered, taunting him. “Look at him go. It's like a tickle there, an itch I just might give in and scratch. I bet you've never seen a cock in the mirror, have you? Just an oversized clit, that is. Oh!” She masked surprised with a displeased tsk as he came with a groan, hips bucking while warm seed drooled from his cock to settle in the fine weave of her stockings. “Ugh.”  
  
Moving her feet, she made sure to drag the insides along his slick and leaking member as it began to soften, scooping up cum along her stockings while her voice turned to a scold. “Look at this disgusting mess! I won't stand for it. Clean up your filth, right this instant.” He sat up, and she brandished one delicate foot at him, reaching forward to slap his hand away as he reached to remove her stocking. “No. Clean it like the good little bitch you are.”  
  
She met his eyes, searing jade that burned her to the very core, and wondered if the hadn't made a mistake. There had been no instructions on limits, no guides for her to use, and though her eyes narrowed and she bumped her toes against his nose, her very core begged him to forgive her. “Clean. Now.” Her full lips carefully articulated the words, and she reached out a hand to pat the top of his russet head as his lips parted and his tongue snaked out to drag along her instep. His hand lifted, and though she raised her own as if to bat it away, it was only to grasp her ankle as he took her toes into his mouth.  
  
Her back stiffened, a sharp hiss of breath drawn in as electric jolts shot up her spine. She felt her folds go slick, her entire body reacting as if she had just been pushed to the very brink of an explosive orgasm, and it was only her mind that held her there at the edge as he dutifully suckled each toe clean, drawing his tongue over her stocking to leave a warm, wet path before she finally pushed at his head to stop him. “Enough,” she growled, setting her feet down on either side of him to stand and toss curls over her shoulder. “There's nothing to be done. I'll just have to speak to Father and tell him that you're impotent.”  
  
She lasted in her huffy stalk until her fingers touched the doorknob. Steadying herself, she contemplated how best to approach the next part of the scene. Deciding that there was nothing to be done by standing at the door, she collected herself and pulled it open, fully intending to stalk down into the common room of the inn and play out the part as made sense. It was something she found impossible to do, unless she had achieved the ability to walk through troll.  
  
“On the other hand,” she recovered, mouthing a prayer of thanks that made the troll grin as she grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into the room, shutting the door behind him as he walked himself to the bed and sat, propped on his palms. “I suppose if a real man were to be substituted without anyone's knowledge...” She ran her tongue over her upper lip as if she found the lanky male to be absolutely delicious, shrugging the fine straps of her teddy off her shoulders as she slunk to him, dropping into an easy crawl that ended with her on her knees in between the troll's own. His mouth opened, and she waved a finger.  
  
“Don't ruin it for me. Keep that mouth shut unless I deem it otherwise,” she leaned forward, her hands skating up along his inner thighs, her mouth chasing one until her fingers closed on the fastening of his leggings, her mouth warm and wet over the bulge of his cock trapped in the tight leather. “Don't say a word, and I'll make it worth every second, you gorgeous man.” Fingers inched the leggings open, and she lifted herself only to be assaulted by his engorged cock as it sprang free from the tight confines. The troll grinned, taking shaft in hand to lightly slap her cheek with it while she groaned in joy.  
  
“This is a cock.” She didn't bother counting off the inches for anyone but herself, greedily moving her lips against the dark skin as she inhaled the scent of him. His musk swam in her senses, and one slender hand took the cock from his hand as her mouth greedily licked and kissed down his shaft to his heavy sack. Her tongue curled beneath one, coaxing it into her mouth with a pleased gurgle and roll of her eyes as her knees moved, shimmying her closer to the male. She slathered his sac in saliva, rolling it in her mouth until she was content that his scent was all that she could comprehend, finally letting the heavy pouch fall from her mouth to smack wetly between his legs.  
  
“Watch, my little bitch husband. I want you to count off the inches as I take this man,” she stressed the word with a breathy moan, “into my very throat. I want you to watch me devour a real man.” She lifted herself, dragging her tongue along the underside of the throbbing member until the uncut tip was even with her lips. Shooting the troll a frisky grin, she took his tip into her mouth, sliding her tongue beneath the foreskin to roll around the hyper-sensitive skin, tearing an appreciative groan from the dark-skinned male as one large hand fisted in her hair. He shuddered beneath her, felt beneath her hand where it lay on his thigh, and she coaxed a few spasms from him before pulling her tongue away, slowly chasing the messy rivulets of saliva that had escaped down his shaft as her tongue had toyed with his tip, slowly coaxing inch by inch of him into her wanting mouth.  
  
Dutifully, her 'husband' counted the inches in a strained voice, reaching double digits as her lips pressed flush against the troll's pelvis. Her coo brought as much a groan from him as her reflex did, eagerly swallowing the thickness that strained her delicate jaw until at last she couldn't hold it and came off, thick ropes of saliva and precum still binding her lips to the troll's cockhead. She shot the groaning elf a knowing grin, relishing his intake of breath as she took the troll again, working his shaft with her mouth and hand in expert tandem.  
  
Her body shifted as the lanky male pushed forward, grabbing fistfuls of her hair as he stood and pistoned his cock inside of her mouth, his balls slapping wetly against her distended throat with each thrust. Her fingertips barely touched the carpet, at last rising to push against his pelvis, and with a grunt, he fell back onto the bed. She followed him with catlike grace, easily turning atop him so that he would see nothing but her back.   
  
“You. There.” The command was obeyed swiftly, the gorgeous elf acting like little more than a dog as he crouched at the side of the bed between the troll's thighs. With one harsh grasp and pull, the troll freed her snatch from the blue silk, easily coaxing her slippery cunt onto his rigid shaft. She moaned, not only for his benefit with how husky and loud that it was, hardly caring that he not only filled her perfectly, but stretched her nearly to the point of pain. It was bliss, and she did little to restrain herself from enjoying what she viewed as her reward.  
  
Her 'husband' watched in mute wonder as her hips rolled, pressing every inch of the troll deep inside of her sweet hole, hands braced on his arms as she bounced fiercely atop him. When her pace slowed, the troll gripped her legs and pounded himself inside of her, her moans turning nearly to shrieks as she urged him on, praising him as if he were a god that fed her nothing but bliss.  
  
“Light, yes! Fuck my cunny, you beautiful beast.” Her legs quivered under his assault, the sudden rush of pleasure overtaking her as she let her head fall back, feeling hair tangle around his tusks. “Watch him fuck me, bitch. Watch how a real man takes the woman you'll never have.” Her words melted into rising cries as the troll gripped her hips and forced her down, his tip ramming and then pressing against her deepest core before he spilled within her, pumping his hips slowly as his release spurred her own and she rode him down from her cloud. Their fluids slicked his cock, and breathless from her release, she gestured to the man that crouched waiting.  
  
“Clean him.” She swatted his nose as she felt his tongue touch her folds. “I said clean him, you idiot.” Her eyes watched him, still hazy from the feeling as the troll twitched and throbbed within her, slowly deflating until he finally left her with a 'plop', his cock falling flat on her 'husband's' forehead. She expected disgust, hate, even rage. What she found instead was lust and eagerness as his mouth took in the softening member of the troll, sucking it clean, much to the lanky male's approval. “What a good little lapdog,” she murmured, combing her fingers through the russet hair as the troll released her at last, “cleaning him so nicely.”  
  
The knock on the door drew a glance from her, and she slapped the cheek of the kneeling man to draw his attention. “Get the door, pet. On your hands and knees. Good boy.” She smirked as he followed every last order, reaching the door as the troll sat up and held her in his lap. She believed her work done, and so the appearance of the tauren that clomped through the door surprised her, even more so when the second padded in after the first. The second near immediately grasped the russet head of hair of the elven male, pulling his face to his groin and rubbing it there before tossing him away.  
  
“Thought there was someone getting' hurt in here,” the first started, nearing her as he undid his leggings and let his girth slap onto her covered breasts. His scent overwhelmed her, pulling a husky moan from deep within her chest as his hand stroked her curls. “Guess it wasn't anything more than a woman in heat, and her little bitch of a groom. What do you say, sweet thing? Think we should show your little pussy bitch how a real man fills his woman?”  
  
“Oh, gods yes.” He was intoxicating and primal, and she wanted nothing more than to drag her tongue over the broad head of that mammoth prick.  
  
His chuckle was deep, his touch so gentle as he lifted her off the troll and dropped to the bed himself. “Your sweet little screams got me all ready to go. Don't be afraid... we'll get all snuggled up tight and you'll feel right at home.” She felt the flat tip of his cock press at her sodden cunt, and her fingers gripped the fur of his chest as he slowly rolled his hips, pressing himself into her slowly. Inch by inch he coaxed her, and it was nearly ten solid minutes before she had taken him in. The others had watched with quiet awe as her whimpers of pain became dulcet moans, and she lay along the great man's chest with her breathing ragged, cunt stretched wide over his girth.  
  
“There's a sweet thing. Easy does it. Now, my brother there doesn't rise to the occasion so easily. Why don't you help him out a bit?” The second, near twin to his brother save for the stripe of gray down his muzzle, approached with a grunt, his leggings already stripped away. His cock stood at half-mast, and he stepped up onto the bed without a care in the world that it creaked and groaned, kneeling astride his brother's chest to present his cock to her. A glance told her that she could no more take him into her mouth than she could fit her own feet into her throat, and she looked confused for but a moment before the great bull reached a hand and pushed her teddy lower, baring her ample tits.  
  
Allowing the bull beneath her to hold her firm, she wrapped as much of the half-soft cock as she could in the warm confines of her mouth, each withdrawal only seeming to make him larger. Spit ran from her mouth, coating her tits, and he followed her grip as she pulled him closer, wrapping the luscious mounds around his shaft. With a grunt, he helped her, pistoning his rapidly hardening cock roughly between her breasts. At full mast, he slipped two fingers inside her mouth, holding her tongue and forcing her to drool over his cockhead.  
  
Her eyes flashed to the troll, and she pulled her head away to speak. “Bitch.” The elven man, kneeling beside the troll, perked his ears and rose slightly. “Nuh-uh. Suck his cock. Be a good little bitch and give my man your mouth so he doesn't have to work himself. Be of some use.” She sneered, looking back to the cock before her as the bulls laughed.  
  
“She's insatiable, this wife of yours. Two bulls and she can't stand the sight of a soft cock. What do you think, pretty girl? Do you want two bulls worth of cum in that sweet little cunt? Give your bitch no hope at all of siring? Not that you want that, hmm? No, you want a real man's whelp.” His hooves braced, and he rolled his hips up, tearing a pealing moan and whimper from her as he slowly pulled his cock from her gaping snatch, letting her drop bodily back atop him. “What do you say?”  
  
Her eyes were on the troll, his dark hand entwined in the russet hair of the elven man as inch after inch of his hardening cock vanished deep into the man's throat as easily as she had taken it herself. His balled slapped against skin, and her eyes went lower, spotting the elven man's hand furiously stroking his own cock, precum leaking from him. “Watch me, bitch.”  
  
His eyes flicked to her, and she grinned a sadistic grin. “I want you to watch this. Watch me take beasts whose half-breed bastards I'd gladly bear over any son of yours.” She moaned as the bull beneath her gathered her at her hips, moving her as much as he bucked as he hammered himself into her sodden, gaping cunny, one thumb rubbing against her clit as she lost herself to waves after waves of pleasure. The brother moved from above his kin, coming to stand instead beside her, stroking himself as she writhed and arched atop his brother.  
  
The bull grunted, hilting himself and pushing against her, spurring her into a climax that took the world right out from under her feet as his cum gushed, spilling out from around his cock in torrents. She was aware of being gathered up into powerful arms and turned, the remaining bull positioning himself so that she was forced to brace her hands against the wall. Her head hung, and she saw the bright eyes of the elf turned upwards at her snatch from where he knelt beneath the bull watching as the man-beast slowly spread her dripping cunt on his mammoth cock.  
  
Her sopping cunt dripped, splashing the mix of her honey and the bull's cum on the elegant features of the elf beneath them, though he did little more than open his mouth to tempt the falling droplets in. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke, barely able to stand beneath the force of the bull tauren's rutting. “Cum. Cum you useless, pitiful sack of skin. Paint the floor with the seed that will never take root in me. I want you to pretend you're the one man enough to fuck me right!”  
  
The bull pushed forward, and she yielded to her elbows propping her against the wall as he fucked her until he was the only thing keeping her standing, her legs quivering and unfeeling. Like his brother, he held himself to her, his thick cock pulsing until at last he released and flooded her with his seed. She heard the elven man groan beneath the roar of the tauren, her eyes opening to catch white splash the carpet before the bull pulled out of her, and the viscous combination of their fluids ran down her thighs and stained the carpet.  
  
Hardly able to stand, exhaustion made it impossible to comprehend the low voices around her as she was lifted again, and ever so gently carried to the bed, the cool sheets striking against her flushed and sweat-laden skin. She was aware of the door opening, of something sweetly scented filling the room, and she shuddered as a cool cloth was taken to her body. She mewled, groaning in pain as the rough texture of a towel slid over her ravaged cunt and spasm-sore legs leaving behind the refreshing clean as it swept away cum and her honey.  
  
Hair touched her skin, and she recognized it as the small and tight braids the troll wore. His hands moved her, turning her to her side and lifting her leg, and though she resisted the first press of his hard shaft against her tightest entrance, she yielded as he whispered sweet words of comfort into her ears. Too tired and weak to fight it, she rewarded him with a dulcet moan as his slick cock stretched her ass, his gentle fucking lulling her into a hazy doze that was kept as such only by his continued tending to her aching body.  
  
“Please,” she murmured as she felt him pause, her voice little more than a whisper partially muffled against the pillows, “please cum in my ass.” She felt him chuckle, and greedily suckled the fingers he offered as his hips picked up speed. The digits tasted sweet, and she felt her aches vanish as she suckled greedily, her moans rising as her tired body responded to him. His hand left her mouth, driving fingers into her cunt and curling, pressing roughly and then shaking his hand in a slight vibration as he urged her to cum.  
  
She did, with a blissful shudder that he kept rolling until he muffled a groan in her neck, panting as his cock pulsed them spilled warmth into her ass. He withdrew slowly, fucking her gently until his cock softened too much, then gently cleaned what trailed from his cock along her supple ass with the cloth. Her hand reached wearily for him as he left the bed, pulling the blanket up over her with a gentle, nearly loving grin.  
  
She was asleep before he pulled his leggings on.  
  
When she woke again, she knew that hours had passed, the light of day shining through the slats of the shutters that covered the windows. Her eyes followed the wisps of dust that danced in the light until they caught on a vase filled with an enormous bouquet of red roses atop the dresser. Beside the vase was a small, ornately crafted chest, and beside that were three small pouches. Atop the chest lay a folded card.  
  
Untangling herself from the cocoon of her blankets, she stumbled towards the dresser, taking the time to press her nose into the sweetly scented roses. A smile lingered on her lips as she reached for the card, flipping it open to read the elegant script:  
  
 _Lady Emrysar,_  
  
I wished to thank you in person, but you slept so deeply that I could not bring myself to wake you.  
I cannot imagine the lengths that you went to in order to complete my requests, but I am more than willing to admit that you went far beyond my wildest expectations. Though you mimicked her perfectly, I daresay that you were more bewitching and beautiful than my wife herself could ever hope to be.  
  
Take this coin as payment, and please accept my humblest offer to become the patron that you so rightly deserve. Let these roses be the first of many that you gather as you chase this dream of yours, and I hope that you will find time, no matter how many far you travel before returning to the city, for private performances for your most devoted and thankful client.  
  
In addition, the others who were a part of your brilliant performance have left coin as well, and a pot of ointment that should help any aches left by the bulls'... rough treatment. Do be sure to save some, for I can promise you that when next we meet, I will be taking sweet revenge on my whorish 'wife.'  
  
Thoughts,  
  
Theron.  
  
Sarai read the parchment three times before finally accepting the words as committed to memory. Pressing the card to her lips as she spun, she fell on her back on the bed with a squee.


	12. Azuremyst Isle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I've met quite a few incompetent people in my day. I bet there's some things that even you can't do, my lovely. In this case, it becomes a little more comedic. What do you do if you're a succubus who simply can't do her job? Worse, what happens if you're a succubus forced to watch everyone else do your job, while you give them advice? Oh, that's where this poor little lass came from. She found me one night and scribbled a memoir or two into me just before she was swept off her feet, and I was swept overboard. Nothing like a little salt bath to tighten the pages.
> 
> “Now, you might ask just how the poor girl got to be little more than a sex therapist for dysfunctional couples, and I would tell you that I really don't know all that much. Her tale wasn't one that covered that part of her life in depth. No, instead, she told quite the tale of how she found herself bored and wanting a different life than one disguised as a Draenei living in the outskirts of Azuremyst Isle, when along comes a couple who have about as bad of luck as she does.”

I'd like to think that I was once pretty good at what I did. It was sex, after all. Succubi live for sex. We breathe it in, and the minds of men are blown as quickly as our corsets. Women want to be us, with all of our allure and hip-wiggling goodness, because they think that men can just be won over by a good rear spank. I did that for years. The whole stand in one place and slap my ass thing. It's pretty degrading, even for us.  
  
Succubi that you can see are usually chained. Typically, we like to just sneak around and participate in debauchery on all levels. If we're feeling frisky, we'll even get inside your head. Yeah, that night you thought it would be good to put that bottle up your ass? That was me. Sorry, it really was a spur of the moment thing. We really do like to watch, too. Funny enough, there's a lot of people who don't mind being watched. Go down to Goldshire on Hallow's End, and you can walk around in plain sight. We're the life of a party.  
  
Granted, there's the whole soul sucking deal. Yeah, so we steal a little of you with every kiss, and your orgasms feed us. Nothing too big. It's not like you were actually going to make something out of those two hours I took, right? Only took me thirty seconds to get those two hours, and you're off humping a pole, sure it's just another thick-assed human girl with three gaping holes. I wonder how long it takes you to get the splinters out, but you're already trading them off like the next season of transmitted disease the Abbey has to figure out a way to cleanse.  
  
The other girls love that. The depravity of it. Flash your tits, get a load all over them. Sucks a few dicks of various sizes, earn immortality, get out of there before the paladins come out of the hormonally charged happy-nap. Not me. I wanted to. I'm pretty sure I really did want to be like all the good ones, but things just... didn't really go the way that most liked. I'm a Succubus. I'm drop-dead gorgeous and can flatten steel with my thighs. The tail has a mind of it's own. I should be able to do everything that they can, but no.  
  
I'm the black sheep. I'm the laughing stock. I get sent by the Legion to do something, and I inevitably fuck it up. Kel'thuzad's plague? That was supposed to be a fucking orgy. Hedonistic pleasure, tight skirts, a train of men porking every woman they could find once the mind magic had happened. Nope. No one told me Kel'thuzad was a selfish bastard. Didn't like to reciprocate at all. I ended up on imp duty for that, which may as well be the dish-duty of the Legion. Bet you never thought that happened.  
  
I realize that it's a bad time to be running an inner monologue when my patients start screaming at each other. That's usual, for these two. Pinky and Brain, I like to call them. You could almost picture them as two rats in a cage, endlessly running on the wheel that gets them nowhere. I feel bad for Brain, I do. Pinky thought she'd get smart, and work a little 'magic' outside of her classes. She ends up turning herself into a gnome, which is pretty impressive all on it's own. Transfiguration is difficult magic, if you haven't had eons to practice.  
  
Brain got smart, and mocked her. Human women are horribly temperamental, but Pinky wasn't human anymore. She was a gnome, and a gnome only has a couple of responses to the general mocking. She could light him on fire, which likely would have done considerable damage given that he's worgen, and fur lights up like a bad habit. She could have bitten his kneecaps a bit, but that would have hardly been noticed through that fur, and he probably would have just punted her anyway.  
  
Instead, she hit him with more transfiguration magic. Now, once should have been enough for her to realize that she just wasn't up to par on that bit. Should have gone into class and scissored her teacher a bit until the woman spilled all her knowledge, and a bit more. Alas, Pinky ended up giving her towering boyfriend a pair of dicks. A pair, stacked one atop another, with great big hanging balls. I'm not really certain who got the wrong end of the deal with this one.  
  
Like I said, screaming is pretty much all they do, now. Pinky tends to forget she's a gnome, and really wants to get those cocks inside of her. Brain is just about the one sweet guy I've ever known on this damned planet, and refuses to let her try. I don't blame him. I can take pretty much anything short of a Gronn with a little lubrication, and those dicks make me want to cross my legs. So I let them scream a bit, until the inevitable question pops up. You know the one. The silent one, where they stare at me like two children expecting Mom to make things fair. I'm a therapist, so I go for my canned response.  
  
“How does that make you feel?”  
  
There they go again. That's the easiest part of the job, really. Not the Succubus job. That bit is sort of out the window for me. Dish-duty wasn't all that the Legion liked to stick me with. I ended up getting my happy ass summoned by this real runt of a gnome. The type that probably got picked on at mechanic school, or whatever gnomes like to do before ruining their lives. He gives me a deal that I actually couldn't really complain about.  
  
“Serve me until I die, and I'll make sure you never have to work again in your life.”  
  
The sentiment was rather nice, all things said and done. I just had to do what he wanted me to, and he wasn't the first 'master' I'd ended up serving, either. Most of those clowns think we're just there to help give them their release. Word to the wise, my dears. The reason we Succubi will give you a mind-blowing orgasm again and again? We're killing you. Killing you in the best of ways, but we're still killing you softly with our lips. Or tits. Or... well, you get the idea.  
  
I have to pause my thoughts to watch the debauchery in front of me. Pinky's pretty strong for a gnome, and she's got Brain on his back with her ass flat on his muzzle, and I can see his tongue flicking up past those frightening teeth to spear into her little slit while she squirms like a whore dancing for a few extra gold. Poor girl still has her hands wrapped around just one of his dicks, and she's working it with about as much finesse as... well, we'll just say he'd have a better time getting off using some sand paper.  
  
Here's where I get pissed. Three years ago, I could have helped them. Just a touch, and I'd have had both of them back to their normal selves, or at least Pinky back to her normal self so she could ride Brain until they both collapsed from exhaustion. Now? Can't do that, now. That bastard gnome locked me into a deal. He made me into his therapist, and I got to sit and listen to him complain about his mother, his sister, and the girlfriend he had until a dwarf came along with a 'bigger boomstick.'  
  
Then Natsha found out. You think school for humans has bullies? Nuh uh. At least those dimwits die. No, Natsha was the thorn in my side from day one. Little Miss Perfect, you know the type. Damned bitch is rumored to suck Sargeras off every other night, and use his testicles as her pillow every Wednesday. She's the favorite. So she found out about my 'owner' and suddenly, the whole damned Legion knew. So they caught the poor guy, and they've got him stuffed who knows where. Until he dies, I'm a fucking therapist. It's enough to piss me off, and pissing me off has one good effect.  
  
It makes me want to fuck. Oh, by Sargeras's flaming codpiece, it makes me want to fuck. Just thinking about Natsha and her shitty little trick, I was all primed up to give that gnome a real lesson. It's a hilarious look, really. That look right there, the one Brain is giving me. His eyes are wide, but I can only just see them over the crest of Pinky's ass. Pinky's watching as I stand and take my glasses off (false glasses, but I know Brain likes them) and all but rip that blasted shirt from me.  
  
Unfortunately, being a Succubus does have downsides. The biggest one being that if people don't want to fuck you, they want to kill you. Unlike some demons who shall not be named? We can die. Painfully. So when the gnome decided to retire to Azuremyst, I changed myself to a Draenei. Not that big a change, but a change no less. I fit right in, no one the wiser, and I still got to look damned good.  
  
As it is, my tits nearly knock Pinky from her perch when they bounce free of the button-down. While she reaches for them, I'm bent over and pulling the slinky short skirt off my round ass and kicking it aside. Remember how I said that Brain's endowments made me cringe? Yeah, I lied. I wanted them bad right then. Bad enough to get down on my knees in front of him and wrap my tits around one, wriggling perfectly into place.  
  
I'm a bit impatient. I like to consider it a little curse, but I really don't like having a lesson delayed because someone can't decide what they want to do. I can also be a bit of a bitch. I know Succubi are depicted as being whimpering little sexpots, but we have our moments. I'm the worst kind of domme. I don't give a shit past a certain point, and Pinky finds this out when my hand wraps in that bubblegum hair of hers and jerks her off her man's mouth and onto his chest. I haven't even started moving, and I can feel him twitching between my tits, and that second dick of his keeps pulsing, thwacking me on the cheek. Real undignified. It's taken care of by my handy face tentacles, but my attention is really on the couple. The damned, Light-fearing couple about to royally piss off an already pissed off Succubus.  
  
“We're going to walk through an exercise, alright?” I manage the words in my best therapist tone, but they're already a growl. Lucky for me, Pinky and Brain are very good listeners. With my hands curled in Pinky's hair, I drag her down along that furry body until her face hits that top dick like a sledder hits a pole. Eager little whore that she is, her mouth is open already and she's licking that base like a damned lollipop.  
  
I make myself a note to visit the candy store in Stormwind, then release her hair and reach for his beard. I'm in a very pull-y mood, but he picks up on that pretty fast. He moves with me, using my handlebar horns to leverage himself up. Fel, I hate when that happens. Always feel like I'm about to have my head torn in half. I can feel a whole lot of drool on my tits, and I realize Pinky's been slathering that length like her life depends on it. She's a good girl, even if she never shuts her damned mouth.  
  
“You want to cum, dog boy?”   
  
His ears flap as he nods quickly, and I pull Pinky's ass apart to display her sweet little slit and puckered ring. There's where it gets to be a problem. See, you flash a bit of cooch at a guy, and all he wants is just ten minutes to get all up in there. Give a guy an option, and he'd far rather stick his dick in a wet slit than anything else. Except maybe, just maybe, pie. Eating it or sticking their dick in it, they'll always go for pie.  
  
I have to slap his nose three times before he gets that I don't want him shoving his tongue in his girl's crotch, and he gets a real dubious look in his eye. The good part about being a therapist? I know all the dirty little secrets. Brain really wants a cock up his ass, but he'd never tell her. Pinky? Pinky wants her ass tongue-fucked. I know for a fact the girl has been keeping it sparkling. I'm pretty sure she even bleached it. I give him my best, 'do it or else,' glare and he gives a tentative lick across her asshole.  
  
You know that look that kids give their parents? The one where you force them to eat something they've never tried, and they take that first bite, mull it over a bit, and the next thing you know, the bowl is empty and they're acting like an orphan who hasn't eaten in weeks asking for more? Yeah, I got that look. That wondrous, 'hey, that's not so bad!' I'm thinking that Pinky's surprised yelp sort of helped.  
  
He didn't need me to hold her butt cheeks anymore, and my horns were relinquished when his hands went to keeping the gates open. I know Brain is damned good with his tongue, and he showed it well, almost artfully flicking that long pink muscle around the treasured hole of her ass before slowly wiggling it in, undulating it like a - … nevermind. Just understand that he was good, and the more he got in there, the more Pinky vibrated like a little firework.  
  
With Pinky panting like a bitch in heat against his dick, her face covered in her own spit as much as his shaft was, I got down to my bit of business. With my own breasts pretty slick from Pinky's messy attentions, it was more than easy to start a good pace on Brain's second schlong. I hate to make a tit-fuck sound boring, but after several thousand years, it's the same motions. Keep the cock tight between the breasts, don't forget to keep your hands in play, and use your mouth. You'd be surprised how many forget that bit.  
  
The only thing that happens with me is that people forget to breathe. I can tell Brain is having a hard time keeping concentration when I’ve got a steady rhythm going with those tentacles, shlicking up and down that shaft wherever my breasts and mouth aren't touching. He's starting to buck, and if he's not careful, he'll put out my eyes. Hey, the irony is that I could be a Demon Hunter for Hallow's End! No? Eh, alright.  
  
When my mouth gets tired, and trust me, all mouths get tired when sucking a regular dick, let alone this beast, I sit up just a bit and knead my breasts over just the tip of his dick. Since they're all nice and slick, it's easy. Just a little wax on, wax off sort of motion and he's pleading within minutes for me to finish him off. Even Pinky is begging.  
  
I had to put a couple of rules in place with these two after our first session. The first? Everyone had to cum at the same time. The second? Brain had to cum inside me. First time he ever got off, his spunk landed in my eye. That shit burns. I'd say I meant it as a punishment, but while I usually have an utter disinterest in sex, I love those cocks. Those cocks are just about the closest thing that can get me off.  
  
Yeah, nasty little trick by Natsha. I'm incapable of getting off. Lucky for me, I'm a damned good faker and I am not mean enough to make my patients wait. So while I get to a point where I can mount Brain, he's busy making Pinky want to hide her face. If you've never heard a queef, you need to take a few moments with a partner and discover it. It's that horribly embarrassing noise that happens when air is pushed out of a woman's cunt, generally when her man is fucking her. It results in... a funny noise.  
  
A noise Brain likes, and he's having far too much fun delving his thumb into her little cunny to produce it. He's good enough that he can almost make a song with it, but a quick whack to his snout just as I get those cocks lined up gives Pinky her mercifully needed break, while my slow grind down onto his dicks makes him buck up against me. I'd worry more about my ass, but he's rock hard and sinking into me easily. We're only paused for so long before I'm content with how far in he is, and then I've got Pinky's hair fisted in my grip again.  
  
She's screaming within seconds, Brain's tongue stuffed up her butt while his thumb is sunk into her slit, and he's rewarded with her climax and a good bathing as she squirts over him. That doesn't make me happy, but I know it can't be helped. Just means I get to be a little rougher, pulling her mouth to my clit as I ride her boyfriend, my silence and professionalism lost completely on them through their haze of lust.  
  
It doesn't take long before I feel those thick cocks spasm, and my insides are bathed in his spunk. I pull off just enough that his cum squelches out from my cunt, and Pinky willingly laps it all up, even sucking it out of my soaking slit as I drag his cock out, only to stuff it back in. I know it torments her to see me take it so easily, and though I'm sure my spleen has been knocked aside a few inches, the look of pathetic worship she gives me with those big blue eyes while licking up the last of her boy's cum from my folds is so worth it.  
  
I gather up the glasses I set aside, leaning for my clipboard and quill while making sure to squeeze his cocks with my walls. Flipping through a few pages, I look at the two of them, and with my sweetest, most refreshed smile, I give my final canned question.  
  
“Same time next week?”


End file.
